


past the point of no return

by NoirSongbird



Series: a lion still has its claws [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dark!Lance, Enemies to Lovers, Explicit Sexual Content, Knotting, M/M, Mentioned Sheith, No Brainwashing, Not season 4 compatible
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-23
Updated: 2018-03-23
Packaged: 2019-04-06 11:02:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 33,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14055537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoirSongbird/pseuds/NoirSongbird
Summary: When Lance crashed the Red Lion after a pitched battle with a Galra fleet, the last place he expected to wake up was in a cell on a Galra ship under the command of one Prince Lotor. He expected even less for the Prince to be strangely welcoming, to treat him as if he was a guest on his vessel and not an enemy combatant seized as a prisoner of war.Lotor is charming, Lance is willing to admit that—and his unique working relationship with his four generals reminds Lance more than he’d like of his own team. The longer he spends with Lotor, the more he likes him - and the more he feels like while he might’ve been the seventh wheel with Voltron, he could have a real, genuine place here.Meanwhile, Lotor finds himself far more interested in Lance himself than he intended. This was all supposed to be a game, to lure one of the Paladins away from the fold and learn all he could about Voltron, but it is rapidly becoming so much more. As the forces of the Empire and Voltron’s growing coalition begin to circle, Lotor and Lance will both have to make some very difficult choices about where, exactly, their loyalties lie.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Sooo this is my entry for the Galra Big Bang! I'm super, super excited to do this, and I want to thank everyone who put the Bang together, and especially my awesome artist, Ruby ([purplerubyred](http://purplerubyred.tumblr.com/) on tumblr)!

Lance did not like crashing.

He’d thought he was used to it from the simulator— he  _ did  _ seem to manage to do it a lot more than was healthy there— but ever since becoming a Paladin, he’d been better at  _ not  _ doing that. Now, though, one shot from a strange new weapon on a Galra cruiser and Red was out of commission, shut down under his hands. He wrestled with her controls, desperately trying to get her to respond, but there was nothing, and so he was completely vulnerable when the cannon shot came, sending him careening towards the planet’s surface below them.

He could hear his team’s shouts ringing in his helmet communicator, Keith ordering Hunk to fall out of formation to try and catch him and Shiro demanding angrily that they  _ hold. _

“Guys, a little help!” Lance shouted. “Red’s not responding, I can’t pull up!” 

“Dammit, Shiro!” He heard Keith snap, which was pretty damn unexpected because Keith  _ never  _ argued with Shiro. “I’m not gonna—”

“ _ Yes you are, _ ” Shiro snapped, voice cold. “Lance, brace for impact, Red’s survived worse than this before, you’ll be fine.”

“That’s easy for you to say!” Lance said. There was something  _ rich  _ about the man with his butt safely back on the bridge of the Castle of Lions ordering Lance to brace to fall and insisting he’d be fine. Shiro wasn’t the one in danger, here, while a glance confirmed for Lance that he’d broken atmosphere and was careening to the ground at approaching terminal velocity. 

He braced, because that was all he could do, and he heard Hunk shout “ _ Lance!”,  _ and then he was impacting the ground and that was it.

 

* * *

Lance woke, briefly, to unfamiliar voices all around him and a pair of hands under his arms, dragging him out of the cockpit. 

“Come on,” a very chirpy female voice said, “let’s get you out of there, that fall must’ve  _ sucked. _ ” He blinked, blearily, and vaguely registered a feminine shape in Galra armor, and he groaned. 

“Leave his helmet,” another voice said, and he felt someone pull it off, and he made a noise of protest and started to struggle.

“Oh, no,” the chirpy voice from earlier said, “none of that! Narti, can you do something?” Another figure entered his bleary figure of view, a vaguely-familiar strangely lizardlike alien who put a hand on his face, and Lance fell unconscious again.

 

* * *

 

When he woke up for a second time, he was in what he assumed had to be a Galra prison cell, hands bound behind his back. Lance wasn’t usually a worst-case-scenario kind of guy, but this pretty much felt like a worst-case scenario. 

It wasn’t exactly  _ hard  _ to think about what that might mean, what it  _ had to  _ mean. He’d been captured by the Galra after Red’s crash. That had maybe been their plan all along, to disable a Lion and crash it and then capture its pilot.

He thought of Shiro, who had returned to Earth down one arm and his memories and up a lot of scars, and who had returned to the team after his second disappearance harder and colder and….different, cut off from Black. Lance wondered for a terrible moment if that was what they meant to do to him, if they were going to screw around with his head so much that when they let him back out his Lion wouldn’t recognize him. 

He didn’t have too much time to get lost in musings, because his cell door opened and a guard stepped in.

Lance barely put any time into thinking through his plan. He flung himself to his feet and charged at the guard, like he meant to bodily shove his way through with no hands. It was a stupid plan, and he knew it, and the guard easily brought out a leg and swept his out from under him, forcing him to the ground and driving a knee into his back. A gauntleted hand twisted in his hair and forced his face against the floor.

“Did you  _ see that?”  _ The guard mocked, and Lance snarled and struggled. “ _ This  _ is a Paladin of Voltron? I thought the  _ Champion  _ was tiny, but look at this one, I bet if I pushed too hard I’d snap him in half!”

“Let him up.” A sharp voice demanded. It had the tone of unquestioned command—Lance recognized it because Shiro got that way sometimes, when he was giving orders he was one hundred percent certain would be obeyed. 

“P-Prince Lotor!” The guard stammered. Lance’s eyes flicked from the floor and up, desperate to get a good look at their previously mysterious enemy. 

Lotor stood in the doorway of the cell, arms crossed and a clearly displeased expression on his face. He was….prettier than Lance had imagined, and smaller, with almost elfin features that put Lance in the mind of Allura more than anything else. Still tall for a human, certainly, but not for a Galra, and far more delicately built than the soldiers Lance was used to seeing. Stature aside, though, everything about him absolutely  _ radiated  _ authority. 

Lance had to admit, when he’d imagined the son of big, hulking, terrifying Emperor Zarkon, he’d….definitely pictured someone taller.

The guard with a knee driven between Lance’s shoulders moved off him hastily, and out of the corner of his eye, Lance could see him and his partner both snap into a salute. 

“Leave us.” Lotor waved a hand, and the guards both nodded sharply.

“Vrepit sa,” they said in unison, and strode past Lotor, out of Lance’s cell. The door shut behind them, and Lotor walked over, kneeling down and helping Lance move back into a sitting position. The gentle way he did it caught Lance off guard—the last person he’d expected kindness from was  _ Lotor,  _ but there it was. “I hope they didn’t rough you up too terribly. I can have a medic come by, if you need it.”

“What kind of game are you playing?” Lance asked, jerking away from Lotor’s hands on his shoulders.

“No games.” Lotor said, releasing his grip and standing, but not before he also released the binders on Lance’s wrists and took them with him. “I think it’s important we pay appropriate respect to the Right Hand of Voltron.”

Lance narrowed his eyes. It was true, sure, that he was the Red Lion’s pilot, but he wasn’t the one people were usually thinking of when they mentioned the “right hand of Voltron.” Mostly, that was Keith.

“You sure you’ve got the right person?” he asked, more than a little sarcastically. 

“Well,” Lotor said, and to Lance’s surprise he met sarcasm with sarcasm, “we  _ did  _ pull you out of the Red Lion, but I suppose I could be wrong. Do you fly the blue lion?” He glanced down, eyes blatantly lingering on Lance’s armor, and Lance flushed, but frowned sharply up at him. 

“No, I fly Red,” he said. Lotor didn’t need to know that he was only flying Red because they were down a pilot and they’d had to shuffle. Frankly, Lotor barely needed to know that Lance flew Red, but that also wasn’t exactly secret information. 

Lotor made a small noise Lance had trouble interpreting.

“Fascinating,” he said, and his tone was equally inscrutable. He glanced around the cell, and clicked his tongue. “You’ll forgive my initial caution in putting you here; I would much prefer we met on more even ground, but I also prefer having my head attached to my shoulders, and from everything I’ve heard, you’re too talented a sharpshooter for me to risk you getting your hands on a weapon.”

Lance automatically preened a little at the implied compliment.  _ Too talented a sharpshooter to risk getting his hands on a weapon,  _ damn straight. 

Then, the part of his brain that realized it was probably a trap kicked in, and he frowned.

“You’re not gonna win me over with flattery,” he said. “So whatever mind games you think you’re playing, you can just...take them and go!”

“I already told you, there are no games,” Lotor said. “I want to offer you better accommodations than a cell in the belly of my ship. We  _ do  _ have guest rooms, and a Paladin of Voltron should be a guest, and not a prisoner.”

“I— _ what?” _ Lance had been all ready to launch into another denial, but the offer caught him off guard. Again. Lotor seemed to be good at that. “A  _ guest?” _

“If you would prefer to stay here, of course, that can be arranged.” Lotor said, voice dry.

“No, no,” Lance said, and he pushed himself up to his feet. “A room sounds, uh, great.” 

“Good,” Lotor gave him a smile that was just a  _ bit  _ too broad to be real. “There will be restrictions, of course,” the Prince continued, “as I said, I enjoy having my head on my shoulders. You’ll be accompanied by myself or one of my Generals at all times, except when sleeping, and if you  _ do  _ attempt to escape or attack a member of my crew, well. That would be  _ incredibly _ rude, and we would be  _ forced  _ to treat you as a prisoner.” 

“Right,” Lance said slowly. 

Absolutely no part of him trusted this. Lotor could  _ say _ he wasn’t playing games as many times as he liked, but Lance was pretty sure he knew a game when he saw one. Sure, he wasn’t politically savvy himself, but this was way, way too nice for it to be anything  _ but _ a trap. 

So, fine, he’d play along, until he could figure out  _ exactly  _ what Lotor was up to, and then he’d escape and get back to the team with a whole lot of information, if they didn’t rescue him first, because they were totally looking to rescue him. They’d gone diving into Zarkon’s command system to save Allura, and Keith had turned the universe upside down looking for Shiro. There was no way Hunk or Pidge would just….let him disappear into Galra hands.

He just had to hold out until they came for him.

“I’d like to meet these generals of yours,” Lance said, because that was an excellent opportunity to learn even more. “We’ve run into each other a few times, but I don’t think we’ve ever actually been introduced.”

“No, that you haven’t,” Lotor acknowledged, and he started walking and beckoned for Lance to follow. There was no  _ not _ noticing the way he walked; the sheer, endless confidence that underlaid every move he made. Lotor was every inch the Prince, and Lance suspected he would have known who Lotor was even without having heard the guard address him by name. There was no  _ ignoring  _ that he was royalty. 

Their route through the ship, Lance noticed, seemed intentionally circuitous, probably designed to keep him from being able to figure out where things were. It worked, too, even though he was doing his best to pay attention to his surroundings; Lotor kept making turns with little warning and Lance had to keep his eyes on him or risk getting left behind. 

He wondered, briefly, if Lotor was this cautious with  _ everyone _ on his ship or if he was a special case. Like, did visiting dignitaries get the weird runaround? Was it considered a sign of strength in Galra society to never let your potential enemies know where the hell they were?

Lance was gearing up to actually ask, even if he half-suspected he’d get some sort of absolutely bullshit non-answer, when Lotor stopped and he nearly ran into him.

“The bridge,” Lotor explained, and then he pressed his palm to a panel and two large doors slid open in front of them. On the other side was a complex command center that reminded him of the one on the Castle of Lions, though there was no wormhole generator that he could see, and one of the seats had the distinct appearance of a throne.

Lance was pretty sure he could guess who that belonged to.

The four people in the other seats were familiar—he remembered them from various confrontations, though he’d never seen them at rest. As soon as the door opened, the red one sat up taller from her lazy drape across her seat, and the big one and the one that basically looked like a hot blue chick both stood up, probably as an intimidation tactic. (It worked.) The terrifying one—lizardy, no eyes, no mouth—just turned partway, but her cat leapt away from her shoulders and stared at him with a very un-animal intensity.

“Sir?” There was a subtle skepticism in Hot Blue Chick’s voice as she looked from Lotor to Lance, like she couldn’t quite believe this was happening.

“This is the Red Paladin of Voltron,” Lotor said, “and he is our  _ guest.” _

“That so?” The red one bounced out of her seat and strode over to him, leaning in close and obviously examining him. Lance felt somehow bared under her gaze, even though he was  _ pretty  _ sure it was Tall Blind and Terrifying who was supposed to be able to read minds, and not Red. Finally, she cocked her head to the side and broke into a broad grin. “You’re  _ cute,  _ up close. I’m Ezor, that’s Acxa,” she pointed to Hot Blue Chick, “Zethrid,” The Big One, “Narti,” Lizardy and Terrifying, “and Kova,” the cat.

“Hey there,” Lance said, letting himself shift into flirtation because putting on a confident mask was going to be the easiest way to get through this. Pretend to be comfortable and happy and cocky and this would go  _ fine _ . “I’m Lance, and it is a  _ pleasure _ to meet you ladies.” He winked, and gave a pair of fingerguns, and Ezor giggled. The other three looked less impressed, and he was pretty sure the cat was judging him somehow, but one out of four was something of a victory. 

“You sure we have to keep him?” Zethrid asked, sounding more than a little snarky. 

“I made an offer to a potential ally that I expect to be respected,” Lotor said, and Lance noted how carefully professional his tone was. It wasn’t quite  _ commanding,  _ but it certainly demanded respect. "Ezor, since the two of you seem to be getting along so swimmingly, would you mind taking Lance to one of the guest rooms? Let me know which one, when you're done, if you would."

"Gotcha," Ezor said, and she linked arms with Lance. "Come on, you're gonna  _ love  _ these, the guest rooms are  _ super  _ nice!" she chirped, brightly, and then she started to tug Lance along. There was absolutely no resisting her; she was thoroughly determined, and also taller and stronger than him, and this was why Lance had never liked his odds in a straight up fight against any of the Generals. So he went, because it was a little more dignified than being hauled off, and he'd like to pretend he had a small amount of dignity left to preserve.

"So, hey," Ezor said as they walked, "you're totally welcome for saving your life."

"Uh, what?" Lance said, actually stopping for a moment, which resulted in being tugged nearly off his feet. "Whoa, hey!"

"I mean, if we hadn't pulled you out of the wreck of your lion, what do you think woulda happened to you?" she asked. "I promise you, we are a  _ lot  _ nicer than Haggar and her druids. Even Zethrid. She's just being a crankypants."

Lance hadn't even thought about that. It sent a chill down his spine, imagining what might have happened to him otherwise. So far, for all that he'd only had a short time to judge, Ezor was right -- they  _ had  _ been pretty damn nice, and Lance wasn't entirely sure what to make of that. But it was absolutely better than whatever he would have gotten at the hands of Haggar and her druids.

“Thanks,” he said, and Ezor patted him on the shoulder, seemingly oblivious to his distress. 

“You’re welcome,” she said cheerily. “How are you doing, by the way? That looked like a  _ nasty  _ crash, and our med team did what they could while you were out, but that doesn’t mean they fixed  _ everything _ .” 

“Uh,” Lance said, “can we stop walking for a second?” 

“Sure,” Ezor agreed. He stood still and took a moment to take inventory. He was actually doing pretty well, all things considered—the Lions took most of the brunt of any crash, and though he could feel an ache in his lower back and his scalp, from the guard’s rough treatment, he was pretty sure it wasn’t anything that wouldn’t go away. 

Emotionally was a whole other ball game, but she hadn’t asked and he didn’t plan to tell.

“I’m...doing pretty good, all things considered,” he said, finally.

“Good,” Ezor said. “It’d be a whole lotta wasted effort if you just dropped dead or something!”

“Yeah, that would suck a lot,” Lance said. 

Ezor tugged him along a little farther, and then she stopped outside a door, which he supposed must lead to his room, and patted him on the back. 

“I’ll be right outside! I’m not going in with you because that would be creepy. But you should find everything you need, and hopefully you’ll be real comfortable!” 

Lance stepped through the door, shut it behind him, and made his way over to the bed—big, and comfortable, definitely the sort of bed you set up for big, important guests. So that was...nice. He guessed.

Lance kicked off his boots mindlessly, and dropped the pieces of his armor as he walked over to it, and sank down on top of the surprisingly soft sheets. He was doing his best not to freak out, butt here was a whole lot to freak out about.

He was a hostage of the Galra Empire, specifically of the Emperor himself. No matter how much Lotor postured about his being a  _ guest,  _ Lance wasn’t stupid. He knew what he was; he knew what was going to happen. Prisoners of the Galra Empire didn’t get lush suites and warm receptions and offers to tour the ship, they got thrown in the arena or tortured or killed. Or all of the above, he was pretty sure all of the above was an option.

So whatever all of this was, it had to be some kind of game to lower his guard. Well, fine, he wouldn’t let it get to him. He would be vigilant, keep his eyes open, stay on alert.

Lance absolutely refused to be played, no matter how nice the game seemed.

 

* * *

Lotor leaned back in his seat, half a grin on his face. There was a sweet victory in having one of the Paladins of Voltron aboard his cruiser, even if he was acquired, and out of necessity would he kept, under somewhat false pretenses. Lotor did not actually intend to make a prisoner of a Paladin of Voltron, not long-term; that would be both foolish and counterproductive. Inviting the wrath of Voltron down on him was, Lotor was more than aware, an absolutely terrible idea, and holding one of their Paladins would unquestionably do that. He knew the story of what happened after the Empire captured Princess Allura, how Voltron had dove into Zarkon's command system to recover her. It might only have been dumb luck that got them out--that and a little well-applied treason--but unlike Zarkon's command system, Lotor's cruiser was not surrounded by an inescapable barrier and backed by multiple fleets. It could be, perhaps, but a pointless fight with Voltron was the last thing Lotor wanted to spend resources on.

So, no, he did not intend to hold the Red Paladin--Lance, was his name, he had said; it was strange on Lotor's tongue, but he suspected most human names would be--as his prisoner for an extended period. There were, however, other things that a Paladin of Voltron absolutely  _ could _ be useful for, beyond as a prisoner or a bargaining chip. The problem, of course, was keeping one around long enough to make use.

He suspected he could manage  _ that _ much, at the least.

"Lotor," Acxa said, and his attention was drawn to her, "there's an incoming call. From Imperial Command."

Lotor frowned. He had his suspicions about who might be making that call, and he could only be so surprised to be receiving it. He'd snatched Lance right out of Haggar's hands, after all; she would, undoubtedly, be other than pleased.

"Put it through," he said, and he was deeply unsurprised when Haggar's face appeared on the communications screen.

"Do you have no control over your direct underlings?" Haggar sneered, with no preamble, and Lotor had to fight the urge to roll his eyes. It would be unnecessarily disrespectful, even if it  _ would _ adequately express exactly how it was feeling. Instead, he brought his elbow up to rest on the arm of his chair, and leaned over to rest his cheek against his closed fist, communicating boredom with posture rather than expression. "Or did you  _ intend _ for your Generals to disrupt one of my operations?"

"My Generals were acting entirely under my orders," Lotor said, "and as your Emperor, I am not required to justify my actions—or theirs, when undertaken on my behalf—to you."

"You interrupted an operation that was  _ months _ in the planning!" Haggar snarled. "And you stole a valuable intelligence source!"

"What, exactly, did you intend to do with the Red Paladin when you recovered him?" Lotor asked. "Torture him? Try to break him?" He let his tone carry his contempt for the idea. "Please. I will recover exactly the same amount of information, in far less time than it would take, and far more reliably."

"More  _ reliably _ ?" Haggar demanded. "My Druids' techniques are unquestionably  _ reliable _ \--"

"Are they?" Lotor asked, raising an eyebrow pointedly. "Was I misinformed, then, about the hunt for the mole on Father's ship? I'd heard he was interrogated and managed to fool your magic, and only more conventional counterintelligence work actually stopped him." Haggar sputtered furiously, and Lotor counted that as a minor victory. "Regardless, the Red Paladin is in  _ my _ custody, and I will handle the extraction of whatever information he might have as  _ I _ please. Torture is unreliable; people will confess to anything to make the pain stop. I much prefer to know that the information I am receiving on the Empire's greatest enemy is  _ legitimate _ ."

"How  _ dare _ you," Haggar snarled.

"I  _ dare _ because I am your  _ Emperor. _ " Lotor said, sitting up and leaning forward. "And you  _ will _ stand back and allow me to oversee this personally. It is far too important to risk any  _ mistakes. _ " A brief not to Acxa, and she cut the feed. Haggar would undoubtedly be furious, but that….was sort of the point, as petty and unbefitting of an Emperor as that was.

“Wow, she is  _ not  _ happy with us,” Ezor said.

“She can remain unhappy,” Lotor said. “What matters is that  _ we _ have the Paladin, and _ we  _ will reap whatever benefits there might be from having him.” And, if all went according to plan, whatever benefits that might come even after letting him go.


	2. Chapter 2

When Lance woke up, his first morning on Lotor's ship, it was with a sense of peace. The bed was comfortable and warm, much more so than the room he was used to on the castleship, and for one long, quiet moment, Lance thought that he might be back home, and that the light knock that came on his door might be his mother— 

Except the perky voice that called, "hey, you up?" from the other side was definitely not hers, and that sent a surge of panic through him as the memory of where he was and how he'd gotten there slammed into him.

Right. He was definitely _ not  _ at his family's home in Miami, because his family's home in Miami was still millions of lightyears away. This wasn't even the castleship, the home he'd found in space, where his friends that had almost come to be a second family were. This, instead, was Lotor's cruiser, and despite the comfort he woke to, this was the  _ opposite _ of a safe place. The voice on the other side was probably General Ezor, if he had to take a guess, because she was the perkiest, cheeriest one of them all, even though he was sure she had an incredible amount of blood on her hands.

"Lance?" she called again, and he took a moment to catch his breath, because freaking out on her was literally the worst possible option. None of these people needed to know that he was afraid. None of them needed to know that this was the last place he wanted to be. His fear would be his weakness, and Lance was not into the idea of showing any kind of weakness. Not now. Not when he needed to survive long enough to wait for rescue.

"I'm up," he said, once he was calm.

"You wanna come get some breakfast? Don't worry about getting dressed, while you're down we'll get some clothes brought up to you!" Ezor said, and she sounded like it was a completely obvious, simple thing to be offering.

"Do you even have stuff in my size?" Lance asked, eyebrows raised.

"We can find something, I mean, Acxa's not  _ that _ much bigger than you!" Ezor chirped. Lance glanced down at what he was wearing—the undersuit of his Paladin armor, not the most comfortable thing but also not the worst, and at least something he wouldn't kind of die internally being seen in. So, yeah, okay, fine. He could do this. He could play nice with his captors over breakfast, and try to ignore the utterly bizarre nature of the whole thing. Probably. He was pretty sure he could, at least.

"Alright," he said, reaching up to pat down his hair. A tiny exhale passed his lips. He could  _ do this _ . "Food  _ does _ sound pretty good."

"Awesome!" Ezor said, and Lance stepped over to the door and opened it. She was on the other side in an outfit that was distinctly  _ not _ her usual armor, and he blinked in surprise. The casual loose shirt and pants looked like something he might see on Earth, or that he might have caught a glimpse of on the racks of a clothing store in the space mall. It threw him off, more than a little, to see her in that context, rather than armored up like a General of a Galra cruiser. His surprise must have shown, because she blinked down at him. "What? Is there something on my face?" She reached up to pat at it, like she genuinely thought  _ that _ was his problem.

"Uh, no," he said, and he mentally shook himself. Not the time. "It's nothing, never mind." She quirked an eyebrow skeptically, and then shrugged.

"Whatever you say," she said.

Just like the other two times he'd been led through the cruiser, they took a ridiculously circuitous route. Lance was pretty sure that logical ship design said that there was no reason for the mess to be so far from the living quarters, but at least the walk wasn't  _ boring _ . Ezor chattered away while they went, pointing out some of the more important facilities they passed. It was strange, to feel like he was being given a tour of his prison, but he tried to remember what things looked like and approximately where they were, because that was better than the alternative, which was going back to the team with literally nothing except panic to show for his time in captivity.

They finally made it to the mess, and Ezor strode inside with the casual air of...well, someone going to get breakfast, not someone who was theoretically supposed to be watching a prisoner. The room felt familiar, and Lance felt a pang of nostalgia for the Garrison's mess, which wasn't something he'd ever suspected, but the buffet line style setup of the cruiser's mess hall was....well. It was basically identical to the Garrison cafeteria.

It was mostly empty, but Lance wasn't too surprised by that. He'd gotten the impression, so far, that Lotor kept the number of living soldiers on his vessel small, preferring sentries; Lance figured that if he was less disoriented and freaked out, he would have a better theory for why that was, but for the moment he was content to accept it as a thing that meant there weren't as many eyes on him as there could have been.

His gaze was drawn to a table towards the back, where Lotor, Zethrid, Narti, and Acxa all sat. Lotor was in conversation with an officer Lance didn't recognize, and the other three were offering suggestions, Narti by way of what Lance could only guess was the Galra equivalent of sign language. Her hands moved rapid-fire, and even if Lance had any idea of what it was supposed to mean, he was pretty sure he wouldn't have been able to follow it. Ezor followed his gaze, and she hummed.

"We can teach you how to sign," she said, idly. "It'd be easier than trying to translate for Narti all the time."

"Uh," Lance said, "not to like, be rude? But I'm not expecting to stay here that long." Ezor blinked, and then she laughed.

"Oh, right, yeah, I guess not." She bumped her hip against his like it was some kind of hilarious joke. “Because your friends are gonna swoop in and save you any day now, right?” She even  _ winked,  _ as if to emphasize how comedic she found the proposition.

Lance had the distinct feeling there was a joke he was completely missing.

“I mean, yeah, that’s the idea,” he said, and he was pretty sure it came out a little defensive. “They went after Allura, they’ll come after me.”

"Right, right, of course," Ezor said.

"So, uh, question, in that vein," Lance said, as he added food to his plate. "Do you guys actually have a plan to like... keep me here? 'Cause if I'm a guest, I should be able to leave whenever, right?"

"Not quite," Ezor said. She frowned faintly. "I mean, I'm sure Lotor would be happy to tell you all the reasons why it'd be terrible of us to just let you go wandering into uncharted space, but reason number one? Haggar wants you. Like, wants you _super_ _badly_. And we don't know each other that well, but I'd feel bad handing the guy that killed my parents over to Haggar, and I _hate_ him."

"The...what?" Lance blinked, startled. He hadn't thought much, he realized, about the Generals--who they were, what their families might be like, any of it. The revelation was nice to focus on, too, because it let him  _ not think about the other thing she'd said _ . The thing about Haggar wanting him  _ really badly. _ Because that was a really awful thing, and Lance absolutely did not want to think about that thing  _ at all. _ It was impossible to overemphasize how much he  _ did not want to think about that. _

He just hadn't had much opportunity to think about the Generals, he figured, or much reason. He sure as hell  _ had _ turned over a couple things about what the son of Zarkon must be like, because it was hard  _ not  _ to ponder when you knew he existed, but his Generals...not so much. They were all half-Galra, and everything he knew about the Empire said they didn't have much patience for "half-breeds". He probably should have expected some bad stories, there, realistically speaking.

Ezor's expression had darkened, and Lance felt more than a little bit guilty about that. She was usually so bubbly, it was weird to see her as anything but.

"Never mind," she said, "it's...not important." She brightened immediately, though, quickly enough that Lance was sure it wasn't a genuine change in mood. "Come on, let's go sit with everybody!"

Lance followed her, a little dazedly, and tried to pretend that things still made sense and he wasn't starting to sympathize with a Galra general, no matter how sad she made her life story sound. That was just... no. Not good. Very, very bad. An absolutely terrible idea.

 

* * *

Breakfast was a surprisingly quiet affair; once Lance joined the table, the Galra commander reporting to Lotor bowed and made a swift exit, and Lance didn't even have it in him to feel offended. Like, it made perfect sense; he and Lotor were probably talking military strategy, which was not something you wanted to be talking about in front of a prisoner, no matter how nice you were being to said prisoner. It just made good sense.

So he didn't mind the quiet so much, especially since the atmosphere didn't really seem tense or uncomfortable; Lotor was perfectly cordial, inquiring on how he'd slept and if he was settling in, and Lance found it surprisingly easy to make idle small talk. He could avoid dealing with anything deeper, but no one at the table seemed to want to go deeper.

As he was finishing up his plate, Zethrid, the big one, leaned forward a little.

"Hey, Lance," she said, and there was a glint in her eyes that was both a little intimidating and a lot exciting, the kind of glint that said she had a terrible idea and she wanted someone to conspire with, "how good are you at hand to hand? I've always wanted to fight a real Paladin of Voltron." Axca leaned back in her seat and groaned, but Ezor lit up, and even Narti looked interested. Lotor quirked an eyebrow, but he looked somewhere between amused and curious, mostly.

"Not great," Lance demurred, but the way she said  _ Paladin of Voltron _ , with a sort of admiring air, had him wanting to take the challenge. "i'm the sharpshooter for a reason. But, you know, we do a lot of training, since we end up in ground fights more than you'd think, and I can hold my own."

"We've got a training deck," Zethrid said, like she was offering the secrets to the universe, and maybe she kind of felt like she was. She seemed like the type of person who thought the secrets of the universe could be sussed out with a good punch, anyway. “You could show me.”

A more cautious person might have considered whether it was a good idea or not to reveal the secrets of Voltron's fighting style to the enemy, or something like that.

Lance was not a cautious person.  _ Lance _ heard what sounded like a challenge, and a fun one, because he was pretty sure Zethrid wasn't going to break him on the training deck even though he was pretty sure she could, and he couldn't help but jump at it.

"That sounds great," he said, unhesitatingly. It  _ did _ , too. Zethrid looked like she would be an absolute joy to take to the mat, and Lance was more than happy to have the opportunity.

"I would certainly be interested to watch," Lotor said idly, and Lance couldn't help but catch the mildly scandalized expression on Acxa's face. That was...almost hilarious. She looked like she was actively disappointed in Lotor for encouraging what she clearly thought was a terrible idea.

"It'll be fun!" Ezor agreed. "We haven't had a chance to really see you guys in action, and I'm kinda curious what a Paladin of Voltron looks like in a fight too."

"Good!" Zethrid said, surprisingly brightly, and she stood up, and Lance was reminded of how much  _ bigger _ she was than him.

Okay, fine. That was fine. The bigger they were, the harder they fell, right? That was the whole thing? Besides, it would just be for fun.

"You gonna show me where this training room is?" Lance asked, and he picked up his plate, but Acxa extracted it from his hands, adding it to a stack.

"I'll get these," she said, by way of explanation, "and then be down. I'm sure Ezor and Zethrid will be happy to direct you."

"Yeah!" Ezor grinned, linking an arm with Lance's. "You two coming?" She looked back at Lotor and Narti. Narti gave a brief nod and stood as well, and Kova leapt onto her shoulders, settling around them,.

"In a moment," Lotor said. "I have a few small things to take care of, but I would be more than happy to join you once they're finished."

"Alright!" Ezor said, and then she started tugging Lance along.

"So," Zethrid said as they walked, "what kind of training did you have? I gotta admit, I don't know anything about Earth martial arts, I bet they're pretty different from Galra ones. You're all so much  _ smaller _ ."

"I mean, I dunno enough to compare," Lance said. About Earth or Galra martial arts, really. "Most of my background is weapons, not unarmed?" Which wasn't totally a lie. The Garrison  _ did _ teach cadets how to shoot, and fighter class was  _ fighter _ class for a reason, and there were definitely martial arts classes, but it wasn't hyperfocused on war. Theoretically, they were preparing for exploration.

"I guess that makes a lot of sense," Zethrid said, giving him a look up and down. Somehow, Lance didn't find that derisive, even though he knew it could have been. It sounded less like a mockery of his smaller stature and lack of experience than a realistic evaluation, at least. "Well, hey," she said, "after I toss you around the mat, I'd be happy to give you some tips!" She paused, and considered briefly. "Maybe Ezor or Acxa would have better stuff for you, though."

"Uh, sure," Lance said, right as Ezor stopped in front of the door to the room she'd pointed out as the training suite. He barely had time to consider what an absurd proposition this was--him, tangling with a Galra General, and maybe getting some unarmed combat tips from her and her fellows.

Yeah, he was pretty sure that was  _ not _ how being a prisoner was supposed to go.

But Ezor was hauling him through the doors, and he was pretty sure that the time to worry about that was long past. He had  _ much _ more pressing concerns.

 

* * *

 

Lotor watched Ezor and Zethrid lead Lance away with a hint of amusement. It seemed absurd, really; Lance  _ had  _ to know he was outmatched. Lotor wasn't sure  _ he _ could match Zethrid in a physical brawl. Someone less trained had far less hope of keeping up with her. Still, Lance was eager, and that counted for rather a lot, as far as Lotor was concerned. He  _ was _ interested in seeing the two of them spar; evaluating Lance's prowess in combat might provide him with some insight into Voltron in general, and into how they conducted themselves in combat.

He hadn't been brushing them off, though, when he said he had work to do and would join them later. The reports Commander Nakhlye had brought him on Haggar's placement of her Druids were intensely interesting, and he added the new information to his ongoing map of their activities. They showed an interesting pattern; those who had been the  _ least  _ happy with his ascension to the throne seemed to all be receiving visits from the Druids.

A more foolish person might have thought it was for his benefit. Lotor...knew Haggar too well to think that.

He stood up from the table, and Acxa fell into step beside him.

"Are you sure this is a good idea, sir?" She asked, and she sounded genuinely concerned.

"A bit of friendly competition?" Lotor asked. "I think Zethrid knows how to hold back, if that's your concern."

"That's not what I'm worried about," Acxa said. "I don't think giving him a glimpse into our hand to hand options is safe, sir." Lotor gave her a brief nod.

"Zethrid  _ is _ our most powerful option when it comes to one-to-one physical combat," he acknowledged, "but she is not our  _ only _ one, and she certainly is not predictable enough to suss out from one fight, I don't think." He said. Acxa's worries weren't unfounded, but some risks were worth taking. "And as much as he learns about us, we will learn about him."

"If you think it's wise," Acxa deferred. Lotor gave a brief shrug of his shoulders.

"I'm not certain it is," he admitted, dropping his voice slightly. "But I think this will at the least put our guest off balance. It's a very...enthusiastic welcome, and one I doubt he was expecting." Acxa hummed acknowledgement, and fell silent for the rest of their walk to the training room.

By the time they arrived, Zethrid and Lance were already squaring up in the sparring arena provided. There were a few others there, members of the crew who had chosen morning exercise, but all eyes were unquestionably on the two people in the center of the room.

By comparison, Lotor couldn't help but notice how  _ small _ Lance was. It probably looked more extreme by virtue of being placed in opposition to Zethrid and her sheer bulk, but he was short and thin and wiry compared even to Acxa or Narti or Lotor himself. It was strange, to think of this slight human as one of the saviors of the universe, but Lotor suspected that Lance's compact appearance hid other skills.

"Oh, good, you're here!" Zethrid grinned, and Lance started a little, turning and blinking. Lotor couldn't help but feel amused at the Paladin's obvious surprise; he clearly had not expected Lotor to turn up himself. "You ready?"

Lance's focus snapped back to Zethrid, and he gave her a grin that could only be described as  _ cocky _ , and Lotor filed that away.

"Yeah, I'm ready," he said, and his tone was exactly as overconfident as that grin.

"Let's go, then," Zethrid said, and she charged, and Lance slid out of the way.

Both of them were quick, but, Lotor was rapidly realizing, Lance was quicker. That was the clear advantage of his smaller stature; he was able to duck and weave around and under Zethrid in a way that was fairly impressive.

The problem, of course, was that he was spending so much time dodging that he wasn't actually fighting back. Avoiding taking a hit, after all, wasn't the only key to victory; one  _ did _ actually have to land a few before one could claim a win, and Zethrid was clearly not going to make  _ that _ easy for him.

As, of course, was to be expected. Zethrid rarely made anything easy for anyone, after all.

Lotor has no particular expectations that Lance would win, but he was  _ clever,  _ and that was something. His fighting style spoke of a lack of training, but not a lack of practice; it was unrefined and clearly very much made up on the spot, but that didn’t make it less  _ effective. _ Moreso, in fact. 

It made Lance less predictable, and Lotor had always been fond of a little unpredictability. It had kept him alive when he was in exile, and would continue to do so.

Lance got a few good hits in, and Lotor’s general estimation was that while he would definitely  _ lose,  _ it would be because he got tired.

Lotor was wrong.

Lance took his eyes off Zethrid, glancing over his shoulder in a move that was so quick it  _ had  _ to be automatic, and Zethrid moved in, taking him to the mat in an easy, swift move and pinning him. Lance let out a startled yelp as he went down, and Lotor had to cover his mouth to stifle a noise of amusement, because it  _ was  _ funny.

“Yield?” she asked.

“Yield,” Lance said, and he looked more than slightly embarrassed. Zethrid stood, and offered him a hand, pulling him to his feet easily.

“You’re good,” she said, easily. “Not as good as any of us, but you’ve probably got a couple hundred less years under your belt.” She shrugged her shoulders casually. “What was that thing at the end there, though? C’mon, you gotta know to never take your eyes off your opponent!” Lance gave a very embarrassed-sounding laugh.

“Guess I’m so used to having backup, I looked for it without thinking.” He shrugged, like it wasn’t a big deal. “We usually practice as a team, so.” Zethrid made a sympathetic noise and clapped him on the shoulder.

“Well! You still did good, kid,” she said, easily. “Little more practice and we’ll break you of that in no time. You gotta trust backup’s coming, not look for it.” 

“Uh,” Lance said, blinking, “more practice?”

“I mean, unless your plans include sitting on your ass all day. I dunno about you, but I’d get bored as hell if that was all I was doing,” Zethrid said.

“And we can show you some great stuff!” Ezor said, bouncing over to the sparring ring. “Right, Narti? Acxa? Lotor?” She beamed back at them.

“If you’d like,” Lotor said, as Narti signed her agreement and Acxa sighed and nodded. He felt a brief buzz from his comm unit, and gave a brief nod. “Another time, for me. Duty calls.” 

Unfortunately, the work of running an empire never ended, and if he wanted the continued freedom to pursue little side-projects like this one, he had to keep up appearances. His Generals would bring him further reports on Lance’s abilities, and he would get a better picture of exactly what he might expect out of Voltron if they ever came face to face. All in all, it was an excellent plan, and he hadn’t even had to do anything but...well, let Zethrid and Ezor be Zethrid and Ezor.

It was always lovely to see things come together so nicely.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While there's no actual dub/noncon in this fic, a brief cw for this chapter that there are some brief discussions of situations that would definitely count as dub/noncon--the endnotes have a bit more detail!

In the weeks after he woke up in a cell and found himself receiving a warmer welcome on the ship of the Emperor Pro Tem than he had expected, Lance got more used to life on Lotor's ship than he wanted to admit. 

Sure, there were a lot of places he wasn't allowed to go, and he missed his team, and it was a little creepy how nice everyone kept being to him, but ultimately they  _ were _ being nice to him.  He liked Ezor, he liked Zethrid, he liked Acxa, he even kind of liked Narti for all she was not all that forthcoming and he generally got the feeling that she didn't like him much. He... _ really  _ liked Lotor, a  _ lot,  _ but that was a whole other issue and he refused to deal with that. 

It didn’t matter that Lotor was deadpan-clever and smart as a whip, what mattered—or what was supposed to matter—was that Lotor was an enemy, the Galra emperor, and was holding him prisoner. That was it. That was all. That was the only thing that should have counted in his head.

What unquestionably should  _ not  _ have mattered was that he was also strangely kind, and soft. All of that could very easily be a game. Lotor could be tricking him; in fact it seemed pretty likely that he  _ was _ .

Lance got on easier with the generals, anyway; they were easy to talk to, fun, and definitely exactly the sort of people he would have  _ chosen _ to hang out with if he had the chance, and there was no weird maybe-attraction to a graceful, handsome Galra emperor to complicate his interactions with them. Ezor made good on teaching him Galra sign, so he could understand Narti, and that was about when he learned that she was exactly as deadpan as her Prince, and managed to convey it with nothing but exactly the right tilt of her head and speed of hand movements. Zethrid was loud and hot-blooded and her favorite solution to every problem usually involved violence, but she was also super encouraging in his training sessions with the generals, and very eager to get tossed around because Acxa wanted to demonstrate a technique for dealing with an opponent bigger than you, or Ezor just kind of wanted to show off. Ezor herself was surprisingly bright and cheery, and Lance was pretty sure none of that was affected. She was just  _ like that _ . Acxa was generally fairly serious and focused, but...well, if Lance was being honest, she kind of reminded him of Shiro, or. At least of the Shiro he'd had a few encounters with at the Garrison, the one that had been his hero.

Not the one who had left him behind.

Because that was the thing looming over all his interactions with the generals and with Lotor. As far as he could tell, there had been no daring rescue attempt by Voltron. He hadn't picked up whispered discussions about being tracked. Nothing at all.

The longer things went on, the more Lance wondered if he  _ was _ going to be rescued, or if eventually Lotor would decide to play catch-and-release and let him go, and then he'd have to worry about something having been done to him. That seemed more Haggar's style than Lotor's, but...well. One really couldn't be too paranoid, not in this sort of situation.

Besides that, as much time as he spent around Lotor, he still felt like he knew very little of what he  _ wanted _ . There were several things he'd picked up, but they were all bits and pieces, nothing solid.

So.

One: Lotor seemed wholly disinterested in the minutia of running the Empire. He was all too happy to delegate that sort of thing, and from everything Lance heard, he tended to leave the governance of planets directly under his control in the hands of the people who had been running them before.

Two: Lotor was very, very interested in quintessence. Lance  _ had _ picked up a few half-conversations about that; about shipments and routes and some sort of shockingly pure form of it, and its "incredible potential" for "myriad applications," as Lotor himself had said before he noticed Lance leaning in the doorwat and waved off the commander he'd been speaking to.

Three: whatever Lotor  _ was _ doing, he seemed pretty completely uninterested in Voltron. There was none of the obsession Zarkon had clearly shown, and Lance wasn't sure what to make of that. Whatever Lotor wanted him for, it was surprisingly easy to believe it wasn't Voltron-related, especially since while Lotor still had his bayard hidden somewhere, as best as Lance understood they  _ hadn't _ taken Red.

That was a lot of pieces and not actually a lot of helpful stuff, and almost none of it had come from Lotor himself, the absurdly beautiful enigma.

The upside was, the more Lance knew, the more he'd have to bring back when he was rescued. Because he  _ was _ going to be rescued. He had to keep holding onto that. It was the only possibility, the only thing he could let himself think.

Voltron was coming for him. They had to be.

 

* * *

 

Being left alone with Lotor was a pretty rare occurrence, for Lance; he was used to at least one of the Generals being around, but with all of them off on an away mission, he was left sitting on the bridge while Lotor worked.

It would have been interesting, if it wasn’t so goddamn  _ frustrating.  _ Lotor was fairly circumspect in his discussions while Lance was there, so he’d turned out in favor of fiddling with the tablet Ezor had picked up for him on her last away mission. None of the games were  _ exactly _ like the ones he was used to, but there  _ were _ games, and apparently rhythm games were universal and it gave him something to do with his hands while he sat around and waited for Lotor to be done with whatever he was discussing.

“...reports of Voltron in the Reunov system,” the commander said, and that immediately dragged Lance away from his game. He perked up and tried not to lean over too far, but get in enough to actually hear what was going on.

“All five Lions?” Lotor asked. 

“Red, Green, and Yellow,” the commander—Nakhlye, Lance was pretty sure her name was—said, and Lotor glanced over in his direction, and Lance pretended to be very absorbed in his tablet.

_ Red.  _ They had someone filling his spot. Keith, probably, which was. Something. Lance wasn’t sure how to feel about it. Was Keith splitting his time between Black and Red? Was Shiro back in a Lion? Too many possibilities, not enough information, and he didn’t like any of it. 

“Well,” Lotor said, “that means they’re quite a bit behind us, if indeed we are who they are looking for.” He let out a brief exhale. “Continue monitoring the situation, Nakhlye. Consider the regular do-not-engage protocol in place regarding Voltron, but I would like to know where else their search teams turn up.”

_ Do not engage.  _ Lotor  _ wasn’t going to engage with Voltron.  _ That was probably the weirdest thing Lance had yet heard, because Voltron was Lotor’s enemy, and  _ Zarkon  _ had sure as hell never held back on coming after them. Lance chewed the inside of his cheek briefly, fingers tapping on the edge of the tablet as a release of nervous energy.

What the hell was going on, here?

“Understood, Your Majesty.” Nakhlye said, and she gave a brief bow, and Lotor gave her a nod, and she left. When she was gone, Lotor briefly made an obviously displeased face.

“Ugh,” he murmured under his breath, barley loud enough for Lance to catch, “I  _ despise  _ that title.” Then, without looking up from the report Nakhlye had given him, he said, “I can’t help but notice you suddenly seemed very interested.”

“Of course I’m interested! You were talking about Voltron, and it sounds like they’re trying to find me.” He wished he was as confident as he made himself sound, and that he could be as certain as he wanted Lotor to believe that his friends would come after him.

“Well, now you know,” Lotor said, and he finally looked over at Lance, closing the report. “If you’re curious, we’ve had few reports of the Blue or Black lions. Enough that there is clearly  _ someone  _ flying all five of the Lions, but other than that, I have little to share with you. I’m sorry.”

“You’re  _ sorry? _ ” Lance raised his eyebrows. “For what?”

“I imagine you’re curious about the state of your team. Were I separated from my Generals, I would be worried about them,” Lotor said, and his tone indicated he felt that was all the explanation it required. 

“Yeah, but you’re sharing intelligence with a prisoner, or whatever, and I don’t  _ get that. _ ” He wrinkled his nose. “And what  _ do not engage protocol  _ were you talking about?”

“I’m offering you a courtesy to soothe your concerns,” Lotor said, “and the protocol is exactly what it sounds like. I have no interest in Voltron except to the degree that I  _ must,  _ and I refuse to expend resources unnecessarily in a fight I have no interest in engaging in _. _ ”

That raised more questions than it answered, as far as Lance was concerned.

“What do you even _want?"_ Lance demanded, because fuck it, he was done trying to guess, he was going to _ask_. "That's what I've been trying to figure out. I don't get it. I don't get your game. You're not after Voltron like your dad, fine. I get that. But as far as I can tell you don't care about _anything_ obvious. You're not in this for the empire, or you'd be doing a hell of a lot more with the whole _being the emperor_ thing. You're not in this for glory, or some kind of warrior's code, or anything like that, you're not _profiting_ off any of this, but it’s not like you don’t care at _all_ or you wouldn’t have come back out of exile _._ So _what the hell is your deal?_ " Lotor watched him with a raised eyebrow and a slightly amused expression, and somehow that just made Lance more frustrated. As far as he could tell, nothing could crack Lotor, and that was absolutely ridiculous. It was stupid how perfect he was, how calm, how collected.

"If you're finished," Lotor said, and the contrary part of Lance wanted to say that he damned well  _ wasn't,  _ but, well. "I will say, I am impressed by the amount of effort you've put into observing me. I assume your intent is to discover my motives so that when Voltron inevitably arrives to rescue you, you'll have something to bring back." There was a hint of amusement in his eyes.

"I—" Lance started, and then he stopped, because, well, yeah, that  _ was  _ what he was after, and he could argue all he liked but he wasn't gonna win. "I also kinda just want to know, at this point."

"Understandable, I suppose." Lotor stood, and walked over to the holoprojector at the front of the bridge. He gestured at it, and up came what Lance recognized as a 3D projection of the Empire. Planets were color-coded, though not in a system Lance could properly follow—some were red, some red-violet, a small number blue; most were purple, and a very small number were gray. "Blue planets have escaped the Empire. Red planets are currently embroiled in uprisings. Red-violet are considered at risk. Purple are solidly within Imperial control; gray are..." Lotor exhaled. "Gray are the planets sucked dry by Haggar for their quintessence." 

“Uhuh,” Lance said, though he wasn’t quite sure he followed where this was going. The map certainly showed the sheer  _ expanse  _ of the Empire, but what did that have to do with anything?

“There are few corners of the known universe that were never touched by the Galra. Your system,” Lotor waved a hand, and the map moved, zooming in on a system Lance very definitely recognized, “is one of a very small number that were so...forgive my bluntness,  _ backwater  _ that the Empire saw little need to bother.” He gestured again, zooming back out. “The Empire is everywhere. The very currency of universal trade is the  _ Galra Authorized Currency.  _ We provide security, safety, communication—the Empire is the backbone of the universe’s functioning, and has been for ten thousand years. And it cannot last.”

“What?” Lance blinked. He hadn’t expected Lotor to outright  _ say  _ that. Sometimes, even  _ he  _ wasn’t sure that was true. Sure, Voltron was fighting to free people, but just looking at the map, at the endless cascade of purple, it was hard to believe that the Galra Empire could ever really fall.

“All empires fall. It is an inevitability of sentient politics. Surely your own history has examples of it?” Lotor raised his eyebrows.

“I mean, yeah,” Lance said, thinking of history lessons on the fall of Rome, the collapse of the great colonial empires, the end of the Soviet Union, “but nobody’s ever, y’know, conquered our entire planet and held it for ten thousand years. Rome got pretty close but they only made it for, like, five hundred, as an empire proper, and things really started falling apart way earlier than that, maybe two hundred years in? So we, uh, really don’t have anything comparable to the Galra.”

“I doubt your...Rome had an immortal at its head,” Lotor pointed out.

“No,” Lance acknowledged, “it definitely didn’t.”

“And that is the key to the Galra Empire’s unnatural longevity,” Lotor said. “It’s true, few empires expand this far or last this long, even the intergalactic ones before ours, but much of that can be attributed to the unique stability granted by a single, immortal head.” He shrugged. “And still, a fall is inevitable. My father cannot truly live forever.  _ Someone  _ was going to find Voltron eventually; even without that, sooner or later people would begin to take issue with Haggar’s experiments. So.” Lotor waved away the projection. “My  _ deal,  _ as you put it, is this: I wish to ensure that in the wake of the inevitable collapse of the Galra Empire, the universe does not descend into chaos. That will serve nothing and no one, and will result in unnecessary violence and death on an incredible scale.” 

Of all the things Lance had expected, that was...not it, at all. Of all the things Lance had expected, that was...not it, at all. He'd sort of gotten the perception of Lotor as a selfish, arrogant bastard, which absolutely did not line up with what was in front of him. With what he'd been seeing all along, if he were honest.

"So that's why you're lax on your colonies? And why you're so hands-off with the Empire itself?" Lance asked, and Lotor gave a brief nod.

"They must be capable of ruling themselves," he said, "and what is the point of continuing to prop up a dying empire?" He let out a brief huff. "If we are very lucky, the husk of my father will finally succumb to the injuries he sustained in his fight with Voltron, and I will be able to begin peaceably weakening the Empire's hold. If we are less lucky, he will wake up. Again." Lotor looked deeply displeased at the thought, and Lance couldn't help but feel a little chilled. Sure, Zarkon was a bastard, that was a fact of the universe, but it was hard to imagine feeling that kind of contempt towards his  _ family.  _ It was a reminder, he supposed, of how different his circumstances were from Lotor's, and how little he really understood.

"And the comet? The ships?" Lance prodded.

"Quintessence is an endless clean energy source," Lotor said, "and the ability to transverse realities, abilities which my Sincline ships allow for, will bring practically infinite opportunities to collect it, never mind the advancements that could be gained by proper understanding of other worlds. But much of that is long-term. In the short term..." He shrugged. "I do what I must to retain the power I need to do what I wish." A hint of amusement crossed his features. "It may please you to know that the witch has no knowledge of my research. Consider that, also, assurance that I am doing this for my own reasons, and not because I wish to advance the Empire." 

"That sounds risky," Lance said, almost without thinking. He really shouldn't be giving Lotor life advice, and he wasn't sure why he cared other than, like, the fact that he was currently on Lotor's ship and therefore anything that went wrong would inevitably involve him, but it came out anyway.

"It is," Lotor admitted, "but without risk there is no reward." He held Lance's gaze, for a long moment. "Are you satisfied, Paladin?"

"I...yeah," Lance said, and his voice was quiet. It wasn't fair, damn it. Lotor wasn't supposed to be so  _ reasonable.  _ He wasn't supposed to have a motivation that Lance could  _ understand,  _ could  _ accept. _

He wasn't supposed to seem like someone who could be an  _ ally, _ and yet there it was. Lance was half-convinced that if the rest of the team heard this pitch, if they only  _ understood… _

Maybe Lotor wasn’t the enemy they’d all thought he was.

 

* * *

Everything, for Lance, came crashing down in one singular, awful moment.

He was used to being met by one of the generals, or occasionally Lotor himself, every time he stepped out of his room. hat was supposed to be the arrangement, after all, and they were pretty good at sticking to it. So when he stepped into an empty hallway, he already sort of had a bad feeling.

It could be a trap, he supposed. Meant to test how far he would try to run, if he was given the opportunity. He was pretty sure that if it  _ was,  _ and he took the bait, he'd end up skewered on the end of Lotor's sword, no matter how confident he was that Lotor was getting to, if not like him, at least sort of enjoy his presence. So, fine, he wasn't gonna take the bait. He was gonna head straight for the bridge, and if he didn't find any of them on the way he would almost certainly find at least one of them there.

It was easier said than done, of course; he was used to winding, complex, circuitous routes. Frankly, though, logic stated that the bridge would be at a central location, and so Lance just...walked purposefully until he figured he was headed in the right direction. It took a lot longer than it would have with a guide, he was pretty sure, but the design was more straightforward, he realized as he walked, than he'd been led to believe.

Maybe that was the test; maybe they wanted to see if he was smart enough to find his way to them on his own? Lance wasn't sure. If he was being honest, none of that really seemed like Lotor; yeah, he was one for manipulations, but some weird test of loyalty didn't really seem like him. Especially when it was pretty well understood that Lance didn't owe him jackshit in the way of "loyalty."

So, fine, maybe not that.

He finally found the familiar hallway that led to the bridge, and started jogging down it. The doors opened in front of him, and he registered first that all four generals  _ and  _ Lotor were there, which explained where everyone had gone. They also hadn't turned to look at him, all watching something playing on one of the holoprojection tables.

"Hey, guys," he started.

And then he realized what they were watching. Or, rather,  _ who. _

There were three familiar figures on the screen, and Lance figured he had to have come in partway through...whatever the hell this was. What it  _ looked like  _ was Allura, Shiro, and Keith  _ on ice skates,  _ but surely that wasn’t possible because that would be absolutely ridiculous.

_ “We need teamwork!”  _ Shiro declared.  _ “The only way to defeat Zarkon is with Voltron!”  _

Lance almost felt like he had to be looking into an alternate universe. One where his team, his  _ friends,  _ were apparently spending the time they could be using to look for him...sentai posing and forming a cardboard version of Voltron. On ice. And they were blowing confetti cannons at...two strange, noodly aliens playing what had to be Zarkon and Haggar. To the tune of overblown space electric guitar.

“ _ I’ll get you next time!”  _ the noodly alien playing Zarkon shouted, as the two of them were hauled off into the air in a fairly dramatic wirework stunt.

In a detached way, Lance could register that it was pretty goddamn funny, especially since Ezor had clearly given up on pretending she was taking it seriously and was howling with laughter. Zethrid had her face buried in her arms and kept pounding the table, and while Acxa was managing to maintain a straight face, he could see a smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

Lotor sort of looked like he either wanted to die or wanted to erase it from his memory, and, fair enough. 

“Guys?” Lance asked, voice small, and he wished it hadn’t come out that way because it felt way too much like revealing how affected he was. “What…. _ was  _ that?”

Suddenly, five pairs of eyes were on him—Kova’s served as an effective substitute for Narti’s own, though her head was turned towards him. 

“Lance,” Acxa started, and she actually sounded sympathetic, which was stupid, because he didn’t need sympathy, he just needed an answer, and he was their prisoner anyway so why should any of them feel sympathetic towards him.

“Coalition propaganda,” Lotor said, but even he sounded way gentler than he should be, and damn it Lance did  _ not _ need t be handled with fucking kid gloves. “They’re calling it  _ The Voltron Show.  _ Intended to raise morale and draw new allies to their cause.” 

“Uhuh,” Lance said, voice still faint. “Anyway, uh, I came to find you guys, and here you are, so. Yeah.”

He knew he was having a whole lot of feelings. Probably. He definitely  _ should  _ be having a whole lot of feelings, at least, though they sort of felt distant and fuzzy, like he still hadn’t quite registered that it was actually real.

Ezor stood up and walked over to him, linking her arm in his.

“Let’s go down to the gym,” she said, and her voice sounded as chipper as usual. Part of Lance wanted to punch her for it, which was weird, because normally he really liked how bright and peppy she was, and also he should be glad that she wasn’t treating him like he was emotionally made of glass. “I wanted to do that anyway, today. You guys keep working, I’ll get the notes later.” She tugged, and Lance went, because did he really have any other choice? It was better than standing around, at least.

He let her lead him, vaguely registering that they were taking a more direct route than he was used to, like, ever. No weaving, no backtracking, no taking weird turns, just straight from the bridge to the training room, and once they were inside she stopped, frowned, and looked at him.

“You okay?” She asked. 

“Why wouldn’t I be okay?” Lance asked. “I’m totally fine, nothing is wrong at  _ all.” _

“I mean, that was kind of a lot,” she said, “even if, y’know, it looked totally stupid.”

“It  _ was  _ stupid!” Lance said, and he laughed, and it sounded fake even to his ears. “Man, I’m glad I’m not getting dragged along doing  _ that,  _ you guys definitely saved me a ton of embarrassment.”

“I dunno, if I found out Lotor was screwing around while, like,  _ I  _ was sitting in Voltron’s dungeon,” Ezor started, bringing up the settings for the simulator.

“I don’t think we have a dungeon,” Lance interrupted. It seemed important to clarify, somehow. Ezor made a face. 

“ _ Whatever,”   _ she said. “My point is, I’d be kinda upset.” The simulated opponents dropped in, and Ezor produced her throwing knives. Lance shifted into the unarmed stance he’d been working on with Acxa, and they fell into the routine of the sim; he was more than familiar, at this point, with the patterns of some of the lower level ones, and he figured that was probably the point. Which was super annoying, because he didn’t need anybody to  _ coddle him. _

“I mean, it sucks,” Lance said, “but whatever, you know?” He drove a hard elbow into one of the simulated opponents, and it shattered into holographic dust. “I’m sure there’s a perfectly good reason for it! Gotta keep the war effort moving, right? Gotta….gotta make sure we’re still...gaining allies, and…” It was strange, he almost felt like he was crying, but there was no way he should be, because, like, why. But there was a stinging in his eyes and his vision was getting blurry, which wasn’t ideal in the middle of a combat sim. “I mean, obviously they don’t need me for any of that, keeping the coalition going is...is obviously...a bigger deal than finding one missing Paladin when they’ve got replacements!”

_ Replacements.  _

He’d been  _ replaced. _

He barely noticed Ezor’s knife sailing over his shoulder to take out the last bot, because yeah, he was definitely crying, and wasn’t  _ that  _ embarrassing, not being able to keep it together. He’d managed so far, the entire time he was being held prisoner, to keep from being visibly distressed in front of Lotor or his generals, and he hated that this was the thing that broke him. A stupid, cheesy propaganda show. Half the team looked like they’d rather die than be doing it anyway. It probably wasn’t completely pulling them away from looking for him, because he knew they’d managed to fight the war  _ and  _ look for Shiro at the same time when  _ he  _ was missing.

But it  _ hurt.  _ There was no acknowledgement that he was gone, that there was a space that should have been filled. It was hard to feel like he wasn’t missed at all.

“Aw, Lance,” Ezor sounded genuinely sad on his behalf, and that made him flinch, and he reached up to wipe away the tears still rolling down his cheeks with more than a little frustration.

“I’m fine,” he said, even though it was, now more obviously than before, a lie.

When she walked over and pulled him into a hug, he didn’t resist. There was no reason to, and she actually gave pretty good hugs. They were no substitute for Hunk’s, but Hunk was a million lightyears away and everything pointed to Lance not getting one of  _ those  _ hugs for a very, very long time. 

 

* * *

The longer Lance stewed on the knowledge that he’d been abandoned, the angrier he got. They were supposed to be a  _ team.  _ He’d thought they were coming to  _ rescue him,  _ that they were _ looking for him _ , but apparently they were screwing around doing stupid propaganda shows, and Lance was an afterthought, if anything.

After all, Keith was in Red. They had a Red Paladin. They didn’t need another one.

So, fine. If they didn’t want him back, maybe  _ he _ didn’t need  _ them _ .

Maybe he could do something he had, most certainly, been thinking about for a  _ while,  _ but that he had talked himself out of.

He left his room and stalked down the castle’s hallways. He knew where Lotor and the generals kept their rooms; that was among the list of things he’d picked up in his time with them.

When he found it, Lance hovered outside the door to Lotor’s room for a long moment. This was probably one of the top ten worst ideas he’d ever had, really, and he could practically  _ hear  _ Hunk’s warning voice in the back of his head, insisting he not do this.

He shoved it away. Hunk had lost the right to be his conscience when he and the rest of the team had abandoned Lance to the tender mercies of the Galra.

That those mercies  _ had  _ been surprisingly tender was more than any of them could possibly have known. For all they knew, he was being tortured by the druids, and they’d just...left him.

It seemed pretty fair for him to throw himself at the pretty alien prince that had treated him so much better than his supposed “team” after all that. 

He took a breath and knocked on the door, and it opened, and there was Lotor, looking...impeccably pretty, the way he tended to, which was bullshit, it was late at night and he should have been  _ sleeping  _ and he still managed to look that damn good. He wore loose sleep pants and, as far as Lance could tell, nothing else, and it was an active struggle for Lance to keep his eyes on Lotor’s face and not his sculpted abs.

“Something I can do for you?” Lotor asked, and although his tone was unperturbed, there was a hint of confusion in his expression.

“ _ Well,”  _ Lance grinned, casually moving himself into Lotor’s space and watching his eyebrows move upwards, “I thought we could, you know, get to know each other better.”

“I thought that was what we’ve  _ been  _ doing,” Lotor said, and he crossed his arms in front of his chest, something between amusement and wariness on his face. “And surely it’s something we can do in the morning.”

“That’s not really what I meant,” Lance said. All right, so, being coy definitely wasn’t going to work, and Lance was pretty shit at that anyway, so, better to just...go for it, right? He reached out and put a hand on Lotor’s hip (and  _ holy shit  _ even with just a casual touch he could feel solid muscle) and moved in closer, and Lotor’s eyes widened slightly. “I was thinking about something a little more…” he dragged his hand up Lotor’s side, “ _ intimate.” _

Lotor’s expression became very serious very quickly, and his hand darted out to grab Lance’s wrist, pulling it away from his side. His grip was gentle but firm, and Lance felt a little like he’d been kicked even  _ before  _ he started talking. 

“Absolutely not,” Lotor said, voice as firm as his grip. “There are a thousand reasons that is an  _ utterly  _ terrible idea.” Lance’s hurt must have manifested in his expression, because Lotor’s face softened, and he sighed. “Lance, regardless of how pleasant we’ve been to each other, I  _ am _ still holding you prisoner and we  _ are _ , at the heart of it, still enemies. I refuse to take advantage of a prisoner or risk being murdered in my sleep by an enemy, so until I am certain that you are neither of those,  _ no. _ ” Lotor released his grip and pushed Lance back out the door, and it shut in his face.

 

* * *

 

Lotor leaned against the door, burying his face in his hands. He should absolutely  _ not _ be thinking of opening that door again, of inviting Lance back in. It was idiotic and foolish, a thought that deserved to be cast away in its entirety.

And yet.

Once upon a time, he had insisted to Haggar that his capture of the Paladin was a long game designed to gain Voltron's secrets. That had, certainly, been his initial intention; that and to open a door, so that when Lance inevitably returned to his original team, he would bring word of Lotor's good intentions, would tell them that Lotor was not some horrible monster to be feared. That he could be a potential ally in the fight to remove Zarkon from the throne he held only because of his unnaturally long life. That was supposed to be all. Keeping Lance captive was more for show for Haggar and the commanders still overly loyal to his father's way; the ones like Throk who refused to see the greater picture. It was better to play the game than to alienate himself and risk everything.

Any sort of  _ personal feelings _ were not supposed to be involved. Lotor was not supposed to care that Lance had looked devastated when he was rejected. He was not supposed to grow increasingly concerned the longer his "prisoner" spent in his custody and the less sign there was of the kind of aggressive search he'd seen when the Black Paladin was rumored to be lost. He was absolutely not supposed to want to open the door and find Lance and invite him into his bed after all.

_ That _ was the worst possible idea of all. The caring, he could manage; he had ten thousand years of practice burying and denying his feelings. Whatever he might come to want from Lance, he would have no trouble setting it aside for the good of the universe. The  _ problem  _ would come if he began something between them, because the objections he had presented were  _ more _ than fair.

Lance certainly wasn't aware that he was in no danger from Lotor, that his status as "prisoner" was merely a show. He  _ couldn't _ know, lest the show be for naught. So it was...not impossible that he intended to use a show of affection, of  _ seduction, _ to earn a better place with his captor, especially after what they had seen of where Voltron's priorities were. So, Lance might well be coming to him as a last resort, because he no longer expected rescue and wanted, instead, to ingratiate himself with Lotor out of desperation. The thought made Lotor ill. If he had given the impression that he was the type of person to  _ want _ such.... _ favors _ , he would....he wasn't sure. Find  _ some _ way to correct that misconception, if the rejection he had given didn't do it, because he refused to be seen that way.

The other option, of course, was that he wasn't the only one playing a long game; it would be giving Lance's acting skills quite a lot of credit to suggest that this had all been some long game on his part to seduce and end the Emperor Pro Tem, leaving the Empire leaderless  _ again _ , but Lotor was not one to  _ underestimate _ an enemy's capabilities. Lance was clever, and while Lotor didn't  _ think _ he had seen that sort of ruthlessness in him, or in any of the other Paladins... Paranoia had served him well for ten thousand years, it would continue to serve him well going forward. There was a possibility that Lance intended the other option he had presented, and inviting him into Lotor's bed would be a death sentence.

Lotor was not interested in dying so long before his plans came to fruition.

The most benign option was that Lance was attempting to substitute dealing with his hurt over feeling cast aside with sex, and Lotor was...not of the opinion that he ought to enable that. Not that Lance’s well-being beyond the physical was  _ supposed  _ to be his responsibility, but all of that pesky  _ caring _ was making it difficult to  _ not  _ feel like it at least somewhat rested on him.

He would speak to Lance in the morning, then, to clear up any possible misunderstandings about his intentions if for no other reason. 

 

* * *

 

Lotor did not get the chance for that talk. He was woken in the morning—if it even qualified; by the ship’s clock it was still the depths of the night cycle—by alarm klaxons.

Alarm klaxons that signalled they were being boarded.

Lotor grit his teeth. He had expected...something, but not something this quickly. The suspicious movement of Druids absolutely pointed to something being afoot, but Lotor had expected that whatever plan Haggar had put in place, it would wait until  _ after _ his father returned to the throne.

Apparently, she—or  _ someone _ —was eager to do away with him.

At least he was more than used to armoring up quickly, and his weapons were never far from hand. Lotor did not consider himself a  _ paranoid _ man, but he was certainly not an  _ incautious _ one, and he much preferred to have his arms and armor at hand. There was no reason to be underprepared, certainly, not in the life he'd led.

His fingers curled around the hilt of his sword, and he strode out of the room, and as he walked down the main hallway, he found his Generals falling into step around him.

"Do we have any information yet?" He asked, looking to Acxa, who already had her communicator up and open.

"Not yet, sir, just that it appears to be Imperial soldiers, not an attack from outside." Sher said, and her voice was flat. Lotor exhaled.

"I suspected Haggar had plans, but this seems foolish even for her. An apparent open revolt against the Emperor?" He raised his eyebrows. "Even just the Emperor Pro Tem, when there is no other viable candidate for the throne that she has even the slightest hope of controlling?" He shook his head.

"No reports of Druids," Acxa said. Lotor made a quiet humming noise.

"Is that so." He said. Perhaps not Haggar, then. "Ezor, Narti," they snapped into a salute, "find Lance and stay with him. Keep him away from the fighting as best as you can. I'll call for you if we need further backup."

"Understood," Ezor said, and Narti signed an acknowledgement. The two of them and Kova moved for Lance's room, and Lotor didn't spare a long enough glance to see what they did. He  _ wanted _ to worry about Lance, but he couldn't  _ afford _ to, not now.

"Zethrid, Acxa, with me." He exhaled, briefly. "If we are lucky, this will be more easily resolved than the current state of affairs suggests. If we are unlucky....then we are very unlucky. Where are they coming in?"

"The shuttle hangar, sir," Acxa said.

"Then that is where we go." Lotor said. "And order our troops into position, but tell them not to engage unless they are engaged. We ought to do our best to prevent any unnecessary bloodshed."

"Yes, sir," Acxa said, and she began relaying the order as they moved towards the hangar.

"Why aren't we fighting them?" Zethrid asked. "We can show whoever this is that you're not playing around, and that they should kneel for their Emperor!"

"Because if this can be resolved  _ without _ resorting to combat," Lotor said, "or in combat only involving  _ me _ , then we are in the best position to argue that we are what the Empire needs. Slaughtering anyone who opposes me was my father's way." A slightly amused grin crossed his face. "I much prefer assignment to terrible posts at the far end of the Empire." At the reminder of the fate that had befallen Throk, Zethrid barked out a laugh.

It wasn't long before they were striding through the doors to the hangar, and Lotor was only so surprised to see who was at the head of the boarding party. It wasn't an army, not here, just one commander and a squad of sentries, but he knew the commander in question well.

It was funny, he supposed, that he had just been thinking of Throk, because here before him was Throk's erstwhile partner in crime from the arena.

"Commander Klardok," he said, politely. "This is a highly unusual visit. If you had called beforehand, I might have made accommodations, but as it stands, we weren't expecting guests."

"I'm not here to play nice with you, Lotor," Klardok said. "I knelt to you when you proved yourself in honorable combat against Throk, and I was willing to see exactly how you would rule, but I have information that you're working with a Paladin of Voltron, and that sounds dangerously close to treachery against the  _ true _ emperor."

"As the  _ reigning _ emperor," Lotor said, forcing his voice to remain as calm as possible, "I believe that it's rather up to  _ me _ what constitutes treason or not, isn't it?"

"Your judgement is clearly compromised," Klardok said. "I'm here to take you into custody, on the authority of Zarkon himself."

"It's very interesting that you would claim to have Zarkon's authority on your side," Lotor said, and his hand went to the hilt of his sword, "when all information relayed to  _ me _ suggests my father is still comatose."

"My orders come from someone who speaks with Zarkon's voice," Klardok said, angrily. "And I  _ refuse  _ to let some half-breed whelp hand us over to Voltron and ruin everything we've fought for centuries for!"

"I am your  _ emperor _ ," Lotor snarled, "not  _ some half-breed whelp _ , and you will address me with the honor I have  _ earned. _ " He drew his sword and pointed it at Klardok. "But if you would like to continue to run your mouth, Klardok, I would be happy to have  _ you _ executed for  _ your _ clear and unquestionable treason, because while I can only imagine that by alluding to someone who  _ speaks with Zarkon's voice _ , you intend to imply your orders come from his High Priestess, I know for a fact that Haggar is nowhere  _ near _ foolish enough to actually  _ sanction _ this kind of nonsense." Lotor watched Klardok's eyes widen, and he felt more than a little proud of himself for having clearly guessed correctly.

"Haggar has nothing to do with this!" He protested furiously. Lotor raised his eyebrows.

"Doesn't she?" he asked. "I can't imagine who  _ else _ you could be referring to. Certainly no one else but Commander Sendak was close enough to my father to  _ speak with his voice _ , and as we all know, Sendak is lost." Amusement wrote itself across his face. "And whatever promises you believe she made you, if she actually supported this pathetic attempt at a coup, her Druid would be here, and so would her fleet, and I would be in binders right now, not fully ready top take your head off."

"Silence!" Klardok snarled, and he leapt forward, sword drawn. "Take Lotor into custody!" He snapped back at his squadron.

Lotor didn't even have to give orders. Acxa and Zethrid, and the backup they had called for, moved into position almost immediately, without any hesitation.

Klardok's blade met Lotor's, and that was it. He leapt into the fight with a furious snarl, keeping up with Klardok's incredibly powerful swings with ease. His opponent was bigger, certainly, and more like the traditional Galra ideal, but Lotor knew that  _ he _ was the better fighter.  _ That _ was obvious from the moment their swords had crossed.

There was a reason that Throk had been the face of the previous rebellion attempt, and that was that Klardok was not an emperor that many of the Galra would be willing to bow to. 

"You know," Lotor said mockingly, dancing away from one of Klardok's heavy, overly-telegraphed strikes, "at least Throk had some  _ technique. _ You barely have  _ that _ , the only thing keeping  _ you  _ anywhere close to on par with me is your  _ size. _ "

"Don't need technique," Klardok grunted, "when I've got backup."

"Lotor, behind!" Acxa shouted, and he spun, and he was face to face with one of Klardok's sentries charging a pistol, too close to dodge— 

There was an explosive  _ crack, _ the sound of a high-powered bullet shattering glass, and the robot soldier dropped. A second  _ crack _ , and another one advancing on Lotor from the left went down too. Lotor's eyes flicked up to the observation area over the hangar, and—yes, one of the windows was shot out, and there was a sniper rifle resting on the windowsill.

Lotor didn't have to guess to know who was behind it.

"Well, Klardok," Lotor said, a broad, poisonous grin drawing over his face, as he watched Ezor and Narti vault out of the window and into the fight, "it looks like I have both the skill  _ and _ the backup." He whirled back into the fight, and Klardok barely got his sword up in time to block.

"Bu-wha-you don't have a sniper!" Klardok said. "I would have known! There was never any indication—"

"I'm full of surprises," Lotor said. Or, rather, he supposed  _ Lance  _ was full of surprises. He ducked under Klardok's guard and drove his sword through the bigger Galra's chest. There was a wet gurgle, and he crumpled. As his body dropped to the ground, Lotor made a sweeping gesture with his sword. "Would anyone else like to challenge me?"

The few organic soldiers Klardok brought with him raised their hands in surrender, and Lotor smiled, though it was no less poisonous than the one he'd directed at Klardok in those last moments.

"Excellent," he said, voice light. "Finish cleaning this up," he said. "I'm going to thank our new sniper."

"You got it, sir," Ezor said, giving him a slightly cockeyed salute. Lotor wanted to laugh, but it would do no good in front of  _ actual  _ prisoners who would have to be interrogated.

Instead, he strode for the observation area, forcing himself not to run up the stairs. He had to admit, he was more than a little unsure what to make of this. Lance hadn't seemed the type to turn to Lotor's side; perhaps he had been wrong about the intentions behind his offer, the previous night?

In any case, this wasn't his goal, and wasn't something he'd planned for, and he knew he was heading into some very dangerous territory. He stepped into the observation booth with a pounding heart and a sense of being off-balance, though in a remarkably positive way.

Lance stood and turned to meet him, hands on a Galra sniper rifle that was almost as tall as he was. The fact that he was wearing Lotor's colors, by virtue of that being what he had access to, enhanced the image of him as a Galra sniper, a member of Lotor's elite guard. One of his Generals, if Lotor let his imagination run wild enough. There was a slightly wild grin on his face, the sort of expression that could only come from pure, unadulterated adrenaline.

"This thing is  _ amazing _ ," Lance said, reaching up to push back his hair, "there's practically no recoil, and the targeting system is  _ ridiculous _ , like, my bayard is  _ perfect _ , and nothing’s ever gonna measure up, but this is..." He whistled, the admiration of an expert given a state of the art version of his weapon of choice. "This thing is  _ beautiful _ ."

"Lance," Lotor said, "not that I'm not pleased, I am, but w _ hat are you doing _ ?"

"I made a decision," Lance said, and his voice was firm and unhesitating, "when Ezor told em what was going on. I couldn't  _ not _ help you." An exhale, and the adrenaline grin become something more nervous. "You talked about  _ peace _ , Lotor. About life after the Empire. I know that maybe it's stupid, but...I really want to trust you. And if Voltron doesn't have a place for me anymore? Maybe I can have one here."

Lotor didn't quite know how to identify the emotion running rampant in his chest. Something akin to hope, or joy, perhaps?

This was, certainly, more than he had ever planned for. More than he had even considered possible. At best he had expected to release Lance into Voltron's custody and perhaps, in a few months, when he fully eliminated the problem of Zarkon and had the opportunity to approach them for peace, he would have an advocate on the other side of the table.

But here was Lance, offering him something far, _ far _ better than that.

"If you wish for a place," Lotor said, "We— _ I _ —would be happy to offer one to you. I must admit, I do find myself in need of someone with your particular skillset."

Lance knelt in front of him, and Lotor's heart skipped a beat.

"Vrepit sa, my Emperor." He said, and part of Lotor wanted to sweep him up and kiss him, and find out how legitimate that come-on had really been.

Later, perhaps. For the moment, there was much to discuss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Extra warning detail: Lance comes onto Lotor, and Lotor expresses suspicion (and worries in internal monologue) that Lance might be doing it either as a ruse to earn favor or as a ruse to kill him.


	4. Chapter 4

Lance's heart raced.

Since making his offer—since he'd chosen actively serving Lotor over continuing to pretend he was Lotor's prisoner—he'd put in a lot of effort and training, and all of it was for  _ this _ . For an opportunity to serve Lotor in the field and advance  _ his _ agenda rather than the Empire's.

Their target was a Galra cruiser floating above a planet with a major rebel presence; supposedly, it was there to help manage the planet below, but this particular cruiser had received for more quintessence than it ought to need, and that meant that it was pretty damn likely that there was something more than just  _ patrolling for rebels _ going on here. So, their mission was two-pronged; Lance, Narti, and Ezor would infiltrate the cruiser, while Zethrid, Acxa, and Lotor held the attention of the crew by demanding reports from the commander aboard.

It seemed simple enough on the face, and Lance was more than ready to prove that he was exactly as effective in action as he'd started to be in training. Even before he was officially one of them—officially bestowed with the title of  _ General of the Galra Empire _ , which, were Lance being honest, he was pretty proud of—he had trained regularly with them, working on his hand to hand skills and, especially, his sword technique. That was definitely something he was lacking; Keith was the sword guy back on Team Voltron, and Lance had never seen a reason to start learning, until Lotor demonstrated very effectively that proper sword technique could  _ absolutely _ overcome an idiot with a gun.

(That idiot with a gun being Lance, who had ended up disarmed and on the ground in about ten seconds. If he was being  _ especially _ honest, getting his ass kicked that hard by Lotor had been kinda hot, and he was more than into it.)

The infiltration had been all his idea, in its execution; Lance remembered the technique they'd used to sneak onto another base full of Druid quintessence, and sliding in with the shipments was still a more than effective option. No one opened the boxes to check, and when they were safely delivered into storage, it was all too easy to slip out and start hunting.

This, Lance was pretty sure, was going to be even easier than the time he'd had to do this with Voltron, too, because they had Narti, and Narti had that utterly unsettling ability to override people and bend them to her will. If Lance weren't working directly with her, he would have been ass-backwards terrified of her, and that felt like a perfectly rational, sane reaction to someone who was fully capable of making him do whatever she wanted, whether he wanted to do it or not.

Ezor scouted ahead, and Lance and Narti waited in the storage room until she ducked back in, grinning and flashing a thumbs-up.

"All clear!" She said, in a hissed whisper, and they were off down the halls of the ship.

"What's the destination?" Lance asked, voice low.

"Central computer," Ezor replied. "It should give us access to whatever records the ship has. There will probably be someone there, but that's why we've got Narti." Kova let out a low purr of confirmation, and Lance gave a sharp nod.

"So it'll be in and out easy peasy, then," he said, and the easy confidence he felt absolutely reflected in his voice. It  _ would _ be easy, as far as he was concerned. Even if they were ought, they could call it a surprise inspection and Lance had absolutely no doubt that Lotor would back them. He'd even manage to make it sound like he was utterly shocked the commanders hadn't expected that, Lance was sure.

The actual sneaking down to the area where the central computer was housed was surprisingly uneventful. The ship was quiet, perhaps too quiet—Lance hated that dumb cliche, but it felt appropriate when they moved through places that  _ should _ have had soldiers, or at least sentries, and  _ didn't _ .

"What the hell is going on here?" Ezor asked quietly, and that just confirmed for Lance that he wasn't imagining things and something really  _ was _ off with this place.

"I dunno," Lance said, and he frowned deeply. "D'you think there's some kind of secret project? And that's why they're getting all that quintessence?"

"Maybe?" Ezor hissed back. "But shouldn't that mean  _ more _ guards?"

"You'd think," Lance said. "Here, this should be it." Narti moved around them and pulled off her glove, pressing a hand to the door's biometrics pad, and it let them in immediately and without fuss. On the other side was one Galra soldier and a small squad of sentries, and the soldier made a shocked noise.

"Hey!" He said. "Nobody's supposed to be down here!"

"Narti, go!" Ezor said, and Lance brought up his gun as she pulled out her knives, and the door shut behind them. Narti moved swiftly through the sentries while Lance and Ezor took them down with well-placed stabs and shots, and she ducked around the back of the soldier right as he slammed his hand down on what Lance strongly suspected was a signal to call for backup.

"Shit," Lance said, knocking down the last sentry as Narti turned him towards the computer. "How long do we have?"

"Expected response time is five doboshes," Narti signed. It had taken a lot of practice, but for the most part Lance figured he had a pretty good grasp on Galra sign now; growing up bilingual had meant that he'd always been pretty good at languages.

"We'll get what we can get and get out of here," Ezor said, "hopefully  _ before _ backup arrives and we make things  _ really _ complicated for Lotor."

"Hopefully we can find what we need," Lance said. Narti signed out a quick agreement, and then directed the controlled soldier to start accessing files on the ship's quintessence usage. He pulled up a map, and Lance frowned.

"What's that part of the ship?" He asked, drawing a circle with a finger around an area lit up bright gold. It wasn't the engines, or any of the crew areas, and certainly wasn't the bridge; all fo thise were the usual culprits for where there should be overuse.

"That's the Druid lab," the soldier said, in the strangely flat tone that Narti's control produced. "They've been conducting some kind of experiment down there. Or they were, for a while. They moved out after that prisoner escaped."

"Prisoner?" Lance asked, eyes wide. Oh shit. Oh,  _ shit _ .

"A human with a Druid tech arm. Didn't even know he was on the ship until he was breaking out." The soldier said. "It was some kind of secret project."

"Oh hell," Lance breathed. It couldn't be. Of all the ships he could have wound up on, of all the threads of strange quintessence overuse by druids he could have followed, it was the path that led him right back to Voltron.

Because unless Matt had picked up a cool robot arm in captivity? Lance was pretty damn sure they were talking about  _ Shiro. _

"What else is down there?" He demanded.

"Don't know. Nobody but the Commander and the Druids do." The soldier replied. "Whatever it is, they call it Project Kuron."

"Narti—" He started, and she turned her head and managed to, without many facial features, affect an expression that said  _ "obviously." _

"Accessing Project Kuron files," she signed, and the soldier made some gestures at the computer. A series of Galra letters spread across the screen, and Ezor stomped her foot.

" _ Vato _ !" she said.

"What's it say?" Lance asked, though he was pretty sure he could guess.

"Error: Requires Authorization Level Six." She said. Then, she frowned. "There are only supposed to be  _ five _ ..."

"Oh, that's not suspicious at all," Lance said, but Kova let out a loud hissing howl.

"Backup is arriving," Narti signed. "Have to go."

"Shit," Lance said, and Ezor said a word in Galra that Lance was pretty damn sure was basically an agreement with his assessment. Narti withdrew her hand from their hapless assistant, and he collapsed to the ground, and they booked it out the door.

They were not, unfortunately for all of them, anywhere close to fast enough. There was a squadron of sentries waiting for them outside, and Lance felt a brief moment of panic, especially when he looked down the other hallway to see another squadron advancing.

"This is gonna  _ suck, _ " Ezor said, and she let out a long sigh. "I hate having to fight our way out."

"Yeah, it always kinda does suck," Lance agreed unhappily, bringing his gun up.

It was chaos. Narti and Ezor were doing pretty okay, but Lance was...not. There were too many of them, and the quarters were far too close; he was forced to sling his gun into its holster across his back and rely on his sword as they pushed through, and he was more than conscious that his sword technique was...not great. He was doing his best, and he'd been practicing, but he was a ranged fighter, not a melee specialist, and it showed in the way he swung clumsily. Half his strategy was just slamming into sentries and knocking them off balance.

He hated how it made him feel, how the tight quarters and the knowledge that he was barely keeping up made him feel utterly, painfully helpless.

Finally, they broke through, and managed to make a turn that temporarily lost their pursuit.

"There," Ezor pointed. "Ventilation shaft. You and Narti get up in there, and we'll wait for them to clear this hallway. I can just camouflage."

"You know," Lance said, as Ezor lifted him up so he could remove the shaft's cover, "I don't wanna tell you guys how to build your cruisers, but I feel like having people-sized ventilation shafts is a bad idea. For, like, security reasons."

"You're not wrong," Ezor agreed. He climbed in and hauled Narti and Kova up with him, and then Ezor passed the shaft's cover back up, which he re-affixed in place from behind. She gave them a wink and a salute, and then vanished.

It was a tense, silent wait, as the sentries charged down the hallway, and Lance felt a terrible moment of paranoid certainty that one of them would absolutely look up and notice things out of place and that would be  _ it _ .

They didn't, and there wasn't anyone to catch them, and Lance took a moment to breathe and relax before Ezor reappeared and Narti kicked out the vent cover into her hands, allowing them to slip out hopefully unnoticed.

When they arrived on the bridge, Lance was surprised to see that the discussion was still perfectly calm. As best as he could tell, it looked like no alarms had been tripped on the bridge at all, or if they had been, they were silent and the Commander was trying to pretend nothing was happening. Possibly, Lance supposed, to avoid Lotor's presumed wrath.

"Ah!" Lotor said, when they stepped through the doors. "Commander Sorvek, these are the rest of my generals, Ezor, Narti, and Lance." A very self-satisfied smirk crossed Lotor's face. "Lance was previously the Red Paladin of Voltron, but his allegiance has...changed."

"A pleasure, sirs," Sorvek said, professionally. Lance couldn't help but be impressed. If he hadn't known, he might honestly believe that everything aboard the cruiser was just fine.

"Unfortunately, I think their arrival heralds the end of this little visit," Lotor said. "Thank you, Commander, I believe you have explained the discrepancy to my satisfaction." He stood, and Acxa and Zethrid stood with him.

"Let me walk you to your ship, Your Majesty," Sorvek said.

"That won't be necessary," Lotor waved him off. "I  _ do _ know the layout of a cruiser well enough to find the hangar bay."

"O-of course, Your Majesty," Sorvek said, and he brought his fist up to his chest. "Vrepit sa."

"Vrepit sa," Lotor said.

As soon as they were on the shuttle Lotor, Axca, and Zethrid had used, Lotor crossed his arms.

"What did you find, and were you seen." He said.

"Only by sentries, Ezor said, "and one soldier who's not gonna remember anything."

"So that alert that he tried to pretend was a malfunction?" Lotor raised his eyebrows.

"I  _ knew _ he was full of shit," Zethrid growled.

"Yeah, that was probably us," Ezor admitted. "And whatever he told you about what the quintessence was for? He was lying."

"There's some kind of secret Druid project on that ship, and I think it has to do with Voltron." Lance swallowed. "With Shiro. The Black Paladin."

"What did you learn?" Lotor asked.

"Not a lot," Lance admitted.

"Yeah, it said it required access level six." Ezor said.

"Access level  _ six _ ?" Acxa frowned. "But  _ for Imperial eyes only _ is level  _ five _ . That should be the highest required...." She shook her head unhappily.

"Obviously," Lotor said flatly, "Haggar and her Druids have created a higher level of access. One that she has shared with Commander Sorvek." A tiny huff passed Lotor's lips. "No wonder he was so eager to see us off his ship." He was silent, for a moment, eyes on Lance's face. "How do you know it has to do with Voltron?"

"The soldier Narti used to get us access mentioned a human prisoner with a Druid-tech arm. There's...only one person I know of who fits that description and who could have been held prisoner by the Galra at the right time." Lance said. "That's not too long before we found Shiro again, and..." He bit the inside of his cheek. How much should he reveal?

He'd already chosen to give Lotor his loyalty as a fighter. Giving him information that, Lance was fairly certain, wouldn't be used to hurt the team—because he  _ had _ to trust that Lotor meant everything he said about not wanting to go after Voltron—wasn't that much further of a step.

"Ever since we found Shiro again, he's been acting weird. At first I kinda thought it was, you know, him being screwed up over everything that happened and then Black rejecting him? But I think it goes deeper than that. I think the Druids did something to him while they had him." Lance wrapped his arms around himself as a small point of comfort.

"It's...very possible." Lotor acknowledged. He frowned unhappily. "I'll look into this further. Whatever Haggar is keeping from me, I don't intend to let it stand."

 

* * *

 

The thing about being cornered and realizing that his hand to hand skills weren’t as good as they could be was that it gave Lance a lot of motivation to get better.

The other thing about getting cornered was that it told him that he didn’t have a whole lot of experience in an area that he needed to get more in—that was, countering sentries and Galra rank and file. He'd gotten used to sparring with—and getting his ass kicked by—Ezor, Acxa, Narti, and Zethrid, but that was four people with four pretty specific fighting styles. So, he pulled one of the regular soldiers on the cruiser aside and asked for a spar, and the soldier agreed.

It was sort of exciting, really. Lance had always liked new challenges, when he had control over how they came at him.

Lance gave the soldier—Mavrex, was his name, he'd asked—a nod, and received one in return, and they leapt at each other. His opponent was much bigger than him, and had more experience, but Lance was ready for that. Most of his opponents were bigger and stronger than him, that wasn't anything new. With someone like that, it was all about being quicker and smarter. Lance was more than confident in his ability to do that.

He dodged shots, grinning recklessly. This was familiar and easy, and even if he sort of missed his Paladin shield for its deflecting abilities, he was pretty proud of his ability to just  _ not get hit.  _ He'd always been pretty quick on his feet, but he could  _ feel  _ the improvement from all his practice with the other generals.

"Come on, Lance, kick his ass!" Ezor cheered from the sidelines, and Lance took a moment to roll his eyes with amusement, which was almost costly, because he was nearly too slow to get out of the path of a shot. He kept an eye on Mavrex's movement patterns, waiting for the opening he knew would eventually come. It was just a matter of patience, and of closing the distance between them without actually getting shot.

Finally, he spotted it and went running in, shifting to the side and bringing his sword up and around to knock Mavrex's gun out of his hand—a trick he'd learned watching Lotor—and then drove his knee into the much larger Galra's solar plexus, or the area that was approximately that, making him double over in pain. The finishing blow was a pommel strike to the face that sent him tumbling to the ground. Mavrex lay there and groaned for a moment, and Lance would have felt a little guilty if he wasn't feeling so damn satisfied with himself.

He extended a hand, and Mavrex took it, and Lance pulled him to his feet.

"Thanks, man," he said.

"Of course, General," Mavrex said, as if it was simply expected that he allow a superior officer to kick his ass. Maybe it was, Lance didn't know much about the Galra, no matter how much time he spent among them, and he knew the casual relationship Lotor and his generals maintained with those below them was fairly unusual.

Also, no matter how many times it happened, it was weird as hell to hear himself referred to by that rank. It had taken forever to get used to  _ Paladin,  _ and  _ General  _ was a whole weird promotion over even  _ that.  _ ("Promotion" seemed like a weird word for it, but it was...close enough.)

He could hear clapping, and Mavrex snapped quickly to attention, and Lance turned, and his eyes widened with surprise. He hadn't realized Lotor was there, watching—he must've come in partway through. The important part, though, was that he looked  _ impressed. _

Impressing Lotor was pretty high on Lance's list of priorities, if he was being entirely honest.

"Excellent work, Lance," he said, as he strode forward, "and thank you for your assistance, Lieutenant Mavrex."

"I was proud to do so, your majesty," Mavrex said, and he bowed.

"You're dismissed," Lotor said, with a politeness the words themselves might not imply. A hint of amusement traced over his features as he looked Lance up and down, and Lance felt a little like he was in the spotlight on a stage, and that wasn't exactly a  _ terrible  _ feeling, were he being honest. "If you aren't too tired, perhaps you'd like to see how you fare against me? The practice might be good for you,  _ alekoaci. _ "

Lance had no idea what that word meant, but there was no denying that the way Lotor said it made it  _ blatantly _ sound like a pet name. Like… _ flirtation _ . He hadn’t done much to pursue his interest in Lotor since he was summarily rejected, but if Lotor was gonna flirt with him, he might as well flirt back.

He forced himself to ignore the way Ezor gasped, and the fact that when he glanced over sidelong, she was staring with wide, practically sparking eyes, hands clutched in front of her face.

"Sure," Lance said, and he did a little twirl with his sword, "bring it, beautiful." Lotor laughed, briefly, but he also didn't hesitate. He drew his sword and leapt forward, and Lance met his first blow with a parry, and the spar was joined.

It felt more serious than it might have been otherwise, because Lotor was absolutely not holding back. He moved like the incredibly powerful predator he was, and it had Lance off balance and more than a little nervous.

"You've demonstrated improvement," Lotor said, "and I  _ am  _ impressed with your progress." That was definitely something, and while Lance's adrenaline was definitely pumping, he could still take a moment to be definitively pleased with  _ Lotor  _ being pleased with him. It was a hell of a drug, the Emperor's approval, and Lance met Lotor's surprisingly playful grin with one of his own.

"Thanks," he said, "I've had good teachers." To say the least. He never would have been able to keep up with Lotor just a few months before. Now, though? Now he felt like even if he couldn't go toe to toe with him—Lance more than knew that he was entirely on the defensive—Lotor at least wasn’t going to wiper the floor with him.

The fight, too, didn't feel like a regular spar; he'd had enough of those to know what they felt like. There was definitely something more going on, something electric and tense that Lance wasn't quite sure he understood but that he was more than happy to go along with. Lotor was pressing into his space more than was anywhere near necessary, and it had Lance chasing after him for more.

"You do them credit," Lotor said, and then he grinned, and his sword came up under Lance's, sending it flying. "Unfortunately, you haven't quite improved  _ enough. _ " A push, and Lance found himself pinned against the wall, with Lotor's arm resting lightly against his throat and the two of them solidly pressed together. He could feel his heart racing, and the smile on Lotor's face was less the smug grin of a victor and more the flirtatious grin of someone who was having the time of his life with someone he  _ very much  _ wanted. "Do you yield?" Lotor asked.

"Yeah," Lance said, and he was surprised he managed it, because his throat was suddenly very dry. "I-I yield." Lotor moved his arm away from Lance's throat, but remained pressed against him, and his hand moved to cup Lance's chin.

"I look forward to seeing how much better you can be, Lance," he said, and he almost purred Lance's name. For a good, long moment, Lance swore Lotor was going to kiss him, and honestly he would have been more than happy with that. Before he did, though, Lotor withdrew his hand, and turned, leaving Lance leaning up against the wall for support.

"...What just happened," he asked, turning to Ezor, who was making a squealing noise best equated to air escaping a deflating balloon in pitch and volume. "Because that was definitely not a regular spar."

"No, no it wasn't, sweet ancestors this is the  _ best!"  _ Ezor declared, and she spun on her toes. "Lance, he was  _ flirting with you _ ."

"I got that," Lance said. "I think that's the only part I got, honestly."

“Ugh, that’s right, you probably don’t know,” Ezor sighed, dramatically. “It’s called  _ vat pohlavie,  _ it’s an old Galra tradition from before the Empire.” 

“Uh,” Lance nodded, very slowly. “So...what...is it?” Because, yeah, he definitely had no idea what any of that meant.

“Okay, so,” Ezor said, “I’m sure you’ve noticed we’re kind of up ourselves about strength and honor and stuff?  _ Vat pohlavie  _ is that, but like, applied to courting. The idea is that you want your future mate to be able to beat you in a fight so you know they’re strong enough to protect you, so, like. Each half has to win a spar before they can  _ really  _ move on with the courtship process.” 

“That sounds...kinda crazy,” Lance said. “On Earth we usually just take people we like out on dates. Like, go see a movie, or have a nice dinner, or something.” Ezor shrugged.

“You can do all that too, I guess. You just also have to be able to win a fight.” She said.

“So...what does it like, mean?” Lance asked. He might have challenged her on the idea that Lotor meant to invoke that particular tradition, but he couldn’t help but remember how tightly Lotor had pressed him against the wall and how utterly unnecessary that had been and...yeah, that had definitely been a come-on, there was no question.

“So,” Ezor said, and she clapped her hands, “Lotor’s declared his interest, and he’s beaten you. Now  _ you  _ just have to beat  _ him,  _ and...well. After that,” she winked, “the rest is up to you two.”


	5. Chapter 5

To say that _all Lance had to do_ was beat Lotor was a much taller order than Ezor made it sound like. Lance knew that going in, but knowing it intellectually and having the repeated experience of getting pounded into the mat because Lotor was just _better_ than him were two very different things.

The upside was that Lotor was clearly having a good time with it, and his flirtation was getting more and more obvious, both in the _vat pohlavie_ sparring ring and out of it. If Lance had any doubts before that Lotor was interested in him, they were destroyed every time Lotor pinned him and was blatantly inches away from actually _kissing_ him. The downside was that Lance was learning that few things were more sexually frustrating than being pinned places by the incredibly gorgeous Galra emperor, and that wasn’t going to change until he could actually manage a _win._

At least he was doing better in the field; all that practice sharpened his hand-to-hand skills, but mostly, he was Lotor’s sniper, and he was starting to get a _reputation._

There was something satisfying about that. About meeting Galra commanders and having them stare with wide eyes not because he was the former Red Paladin of Voltron, but because he was _Lotor’s sniper,_ who was starting to garner a reputation.

And then there was the _other_ reputation he was picking up, because when they hit Druid targets he obviously couldn’t be identified as _Lotor’s_ sniper, but the mystery sharpshooter capable of shooting fighters down mid-takeoff was making something of a name for himself.

There was nothing, really, to indicate that the mission he and Ezor had gone on—another piece in the trail of strange Druid activity—would be anything more complex than their other infiltrations, but things had rapidly gotten hairy partway through, and Lance came tumbling out of the fighter he and Ezor had stolen for their exit riding the high of having gone toe to toe with the base’s commander and not only _lived,_ but _won._

It hadn’t been easy, but he’d _done it._ It had taken every clever trick Lotor and the generals had taught him, and everything he knew about fighting bigger opponents, but Commander Rhigh was dead, and Lance was still alive, and when Lotor met them coming off the fighter he was grinning broadly.

“That was _beautiful,”_ he said, and Lance let out a half laugh.

“It was intense, is what it was.” He said. Lotor took a few steps forward and put his hands on either side of Lance’s face, and for a long moment Lance thought Lotor was going to kiss him and he really, really, really wanted that.

“I was worried,” he said, voice soft. “But you were... _incredible.”_ He withdrew, and started to turn to leave, and that was when Lance was struck with perhaps his best and worst idea.

"Hey, Lotor," Lance said, "wanna go for a round?"

Lance knew he was still running on adrenaline from the mission. He knew he was probably still nowhere near Lotor's level. He knew this was the most reckless, stupid idea he'd had, but he also couldn't stop thinking about Lotor almost kissing him, and the particular kind of adrenaline that came with that, and the fact that _he’d killed a Galra commander in a swordfight_ . He’d gone up against one of the Galra Empire’s best and _won_. So, fine. Sure, he kind of thought the whole "you have to beat your crush in a fight before you can date" thing was dumb, but if he had to prove himself worthy of his emperor's affections to satisfy some weird Galra tradition? Now seemed like as good a time as any.

"It would be my pleasure," Lotor said, with no hesitation. Lance was pretty sure that was a good sign. He'd felt confident going into other spars, but that was nothing compared to this—and yeah, sure, that was probably the high, but it didn't matter. "To the training deck, then?" Lance gave him a brief nod and a cocky grin.

"Or we could do it here, I'm not picky." He said, spreading his arms and shrugging.

"Mm, no," Lotor said lightly. "I think somewhere more private would be preferable." There was something deeply amused in his voice. "Acxa, have the deck cleared."

"Of course, sir," Acxa said.

"Okay, but like, we can come watch, right?" Ezor asked, sliding over to them and waggling her eyebrows in a way that could really only be interpreted as suggestive.

"I think I would prefer you not," Lotor said. Ezor made a noise that sounded very much like a whine, but Acxa nodded, and Zethrid put a hand on Ezor's shoulders, guiding her away.

"See you later," Zethrid said, and then she winked. Very blatantly. Ordinarily Lance might’ve been embarrassed, but embarrassment was for other people, so he gave her a very cocky almost-salute, which got a gruff laugh.

The entire way from the hangars to the training deck, Lance was practically vibrating with excitement. This was it. He believed that without hesitation.

There was a more rational part of him that was pretty sure he was being overly cocky, and Lotor would kick his ass just like he had every other time they'd done this. He chose, very blatantly, to ignore that part. Being down on his abilities was just gonna guarantee that he lost.

"Are you ready?" Lotor asked. Lance nodded.

"Let's go, Your Highness," he said. He watched Lotor's eyes widen just a little, the way they always did when Lance whipped out the official form of address, and felt pretty damn satisfied with himself. At the least, there was no doubting that ridiculous courtship ritual or not, Lotor definitely wanted him.

Lotor gave a brief nod, and then he was moving forward, as quickly and gracefully as he did facing a real opponent. Lance brought his blade up to guard, and it was on.

"It's always a pleasure to watch you fight," Lotor said, voice low. "Today, especially. You were in top form out there, _alekoaci_." Lance wasn't sure if the pet name was meant to distract him or not; he was never sure when Lotor flirted that blatantly during their spars.

"Thanks, sweetheart," Lance said, skipping backwards and staying on the defensive. He wasn't sure he really had a strategy, at this point, except "don't go down." "You were pretty on point too." To say the least. Lotor was always a sight to behold. Even if—maybe especially if—Lance was the one tangling with him.

"I do try," Lotor said, and he moved to perform the disarm trick Lance was so familiar with. Lance sidestepped and caught Lotor's sword, and Lotor grinned. "Very impressive," he said, and there was something dark in his tone and in his eyes.

"I thought so," Lance said lightly. He was intensely focused on Lotor's technique, looking for any kind of break in his guard, any little thing he could exploit, but it wasn't exactly forthcoming. Lotor was just too damn good and too damn fast. Lance was gonna have to rely on luck, but the upside was that he was a pretty damn lucky dude.

So, fine. He'd keep looking for that lucky break, that one moment that would give him the chance to claim the victory he'd been working for. It wasn't really just about the stupid Galra tradition, not anymore; it was about winning something he'd been working hard to win, and that was almost more important.

"You seem particularly focused today, Lance," Lotor said lightly. He took a swing that would've gone under Lance's guard, but Lance slid to the side, and the blade hit empty air.

"Yeah, well," Lance said, "I'm pretty invested in showing you exactly how good I can be."

The problem, of course, was that Lance knew he needed to end this quickly, or it would be like every other spar he’d had with Lotor, and he’d end up on the business end of the Prince’s sword and yielding to him _again._ His opportunity clearly wasn’t going to come just by him crossing his fingers, metaphorically speaking, so, fine, time to go for something else.

“You know, Your Highness,” Lance said, dropping his voice low, “as much as I’m looking forward to having you under me right _now,_ I’m looking forward to what we might do _after_ a lot more.” It was the most blatant he’d been, and it sounded over the top to his ears, but it _worked,_ because Lotor stumbled and flushed, and that gave Lance the opening he needed to disarm him with a quick hook of sword hilts, drop his own blade, and then sweep Lotor’s legs out from under him, taking him down to the mat below them. He went too, pinning Lotor down, and grinned. “Do you yield?” He asked, playfully.

In lieu of an answer, Lotor grabbed the front of his armor and dragged him into a kiss.

When they broke to breathe, Lotor was grinning with the expression of a very, very satisfied predator, every inch the metaphorical cat that caught the canary. Lance supposed that made him the prey, and he was...pretty okay with that.

“I’ve been waiting for a long time for this,” Lotor purred, and Lance shivered faintly.

“Me too,” he said. Lotor made a noise that sounded distinctly like a purr, and then he easily flipped them, pinning Lance underneath him and leaning in for another kiss. This one was hot and sloppy, and Lotor’s tongue slipped into Lance’s mouth and twined with his, a heated dance that had Lance mewling desperately into the kiss and moving to grind his hips against Lotor’s. Lotor pulled back, and grinned down at him.

“Let’s take this to my rooms, hm? I’d much prefer to have you there than on the training room floor. At least for the first time.” He said. Lance nodded wordlessly; he wasn’t sure he could trust himself to form sentences. Not then.

Lotor made no hesitation in guiding him down the hallway, and Lance hardly realized they’d left the training room before they were there and Lotor was opening the door to his room. He tugged Lance through, and Lance felt a thrill crawl up the back of his spine. This was really happening, and he wasn't going to end up unceremoniously thrown out, like last time; Lotor wanted him here, and he had more than proven that he wasn't a prisoner trying to win special favors from his captor or an enemy planning to slit Lotor's throat in his sleep.

Lotor let his eyes flick up and down Lance's figure, and he hummed, almost admiringly.

"Take your clothes off?" Lotor asked, though it had the edge of a demand, and wow, Lance was pretty into that. Lotor was, frankly, welcome to order him around as much as he damn well pleased.

He started peeling off the suit, and Lotor leaned back against the end of his bed, watching with obvious interest, which made Lance grin. There was nothing quite like being the center of attention, especially when it was attention he'd been aching to have for _months_. He couldn't help but stare back, too, especially since his eyes were drawn to the very obvious, fairly large bulge in Lotor's tight-fitting undersuit, and it was doing things to him to imagine having that inside him if Lotor's cock was as big as it suggested.

The suit came off easily in one piece, and he stepped out of it, wiggling off his boxers and leaving them on the floor too. Lotor stood up and walked around him, slowly, evaluating with obvious curiosity.

"Hm," he said, stopping behind Lance and tracing his hands over Lance's shoulders, down his chest, and to his hips, a teasing, testing touch that had Lance shivering. "How exactly _does_ intercourse work for your species? I could guess, but frankly in situations like these it is really just better to _ask._ "

"Um," Lance said, and he felt himself flush hot. He probably should have been prepared for this; Lotor _was_ an alien and humans _were_ the newcomers here. Lance was as alien to Lotor as Lotor was to him. (And wasn't _that_ a science fiction fantasy made reality.) "It kind of depends on what you've got?" Lotor laughed, faintly.

"I suppose that _is_ true," he said. "Our configurations aren't all that different, as far as I can tell," his hand moved to Lance's ass, pressing briefly at his entrance and drawing an involuntary whine from him, “but you ought to have the chance to see.” He could hear the sound of Lotor peeling out of his own undersuit, and Lance felt his breath catch with anticipation, because holy shit, he was going to get to see Lotor naked, which was a thing he'd had far more fantasies about than he was anything like eager to admit. Lotor trailed a finger across his shoulders as he walked around, coming to stand in front of Lance, and oh, holy hell, it was _so_ much better than he'd fantasized.

Lotor was exactly as toned and muscular as his fighting abilities suggested, but that wasn't what Lance focused on. His eyes were drawn to Lotor's cock, obviously and gloriously hard, and very, _very_ not-human. It had the general shape of a human penis, but it was definitely longer and thicker, proportional generally to how much bigger Lotor was than a human. It looked almost tiered, with three prominent ridges all the way around, and there was a bulge at the base that looked like the beginnings of a knot, right out of every filthy xeno fantasy Lance had ever had.

"Oh, holy shit," he breathed, and Lotor quirked up an eyebrow.

"I assume you like what you see," he said, and Lance laughed a little breathlessly.

"Uh, yeah," he said. It was gonna take some effort to get that in him, but Lance was nothing if not very, very determined. "So, uh, unless you really want to bottom—which, like, I'm not _totally_ opposed to topping, but, uh, I really _really_ want you to fuck me," his eyes flicked down to that absolutely incredible-looking dick, and Lance swallowed, "humans with my... genital configuration," that was the phrase Lotor had used, and it worked, "don't self-lubricate? So we'd need something to help with that, and also prep so I can, um. Take you."

"Lance," Lotor took a step forward, and a hand came to rest on his cheek. "Relax. If you're nervous, we can take this slowly." Lance took a moment to take inventory, because yeah, sometimes his feelings got away from him—and he was definitely jittery, and it must have shown, but it was _excitement,_ not _nerves._

"No, I really want to do this," he said, and he did his best to convey his certainty. "That's why I'm kind of all over the place."

"As long as you're certain," Lotor said, and then he leaned down and drew Lance into a kiss. Lance groaned against his lips, and his arms came up to wrap around Lotor's shoulders. He held the kiss for a long moment, and then he pulled back and gave Lotor a teasing grin.

 

[ ](https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/406267845446729739/426604663325065231/Galra-Big-Bang1.png)

  
  
"Let me show you how much I want this?" He asked. Lotor nodded, meeting his grin with a playful smirk.  
  
"I would like nothing more," he said lightly, and that was plenty of invitation for Lance. He sank to his knees in front of Lotor and wrapped a hand around the base of his cock, drawing it to his lips. Lotor let out a little gasp that turned into a moan as Lance’s tongue slipped out to lick at the tip, and Lance felt fingers twist in his hair; not hard enough to hurt, but enough to prickle and send a little thrill through him. He'd always loved having his hair tugged on while he gave blowjobs.  
  
It was a lot different than what Lance was used to, but the principle was the same. He let his tongue draw over the shaft, dipping into the ridges, while his fist gripped the base to hold it in place. Lotor wasn’t exactly quiet about how much he was enjoying what Lance was doing, letting moans tumble from his lips, which Lance found _more_ than encouraging.

He could taste something on his tongue when he drew it over the head, something strangely sweet, and it took him a moment to realize that it was whatever the Galra equivalent of precum was. It was only vaguely salty, not the way humans tasted; if Lance had to compare it to anything, he’d have picked salted caramel, and he absolutely wanted more of that.

Realistically speaking, he was pretty sure there was no way he was swallowing Lotor; he was pretty damn determined, but he also had some understanding of his own limits. So, fine, he'd do as much as he could, and get a good feeling for what Lotor's cock was like in the process. He drew it into his mouth, lips resting behind the first ridge, and sucked, and Lotor let out a needy little moan, yanking briefly at his hair. Lance could feel the light prick of claws against his scalp, too, which meant Lotor was into it enough to have those coming out.  
  
"You are...incredibly talented with your mouth," Lotor said, and Lance hummed around his cock. If he was being honest, the praise went straight to his groin, making him shiver pleasantly. He liked hearing how good he was at things, and he really, _really_ liked hearing praise come in Lotor's velvet voice, while Lotor's cock was in his mouth and Lotor's hands were in his hair.

He started bobbing his head up and down, and Lotor groaned, and Lance could feel the tension in his hip. He wondered, idly, if Lotor wanted to be fucking forward to meet him, and as much as part of him really, really, really wanted that, he also knew that ending up choking on Lotor's cock wasn't what he was going for right then. The point was to get Lotor as hot as he was, to make Lotor really _get_ how much Lance wanted him, so that it was completely and utterly unambiguous, not to get too eager. That had been his problem in a lot of their spars, too, he'd realized; he'd gotten excited to press what he thought was an opening and ended up on his ass because he'd gotten away ahead of himself.

"So good," Lotor sighed, raking his fingers through Lance's hair, letting him feel the pinpricks of claws. Having them tease at his scalp had Lance imagining them other places, like digging into his back and leaving scores down it that he'd be feeling for days, because getting something like that taken care of was out of the question—but bruises and bite marks later. "You must have plenty of practice," and Lotor tugged Lance off his cock to let him answer.

"With this, yeah," Lance admitted, "not...with most other things." It didn't feel so much like an admission of vulnerability, just an honest fact; he'd fumbled around with other cadets, given and received a few blowjobs or handjobs, gotten to eat out a pretty girl in an empty classroom once, but never anything more than that. Lotor let out a little growl that sounded undeniably possessive, and he tugged Lance back down, and Lance went eagerly.

"Good," Lotor murmured. "I’ll be more than happy to be your first and _only.”_ Lance moaned at the promise inherent there, and let Lotor draw him down further, so that the head of Lotor's cock was pressing at the back of his throat. He could feel Lotor's knot swelling under his palm, and a part of him really, really wanted to be choking on it, but while he was definitely pretty reckless, he wasn't quite _that_ reckless.

He could feel Lotor tensing under his hands, and Lotor groaned tightly, and then pulled Lance off his cock again, and Lance couldn't stop himself from letting out a little disappointed whine. He was pretty sure he'd gotten Lotor right to the edge, and he really wanted to finish him off.

"As much as I would love to see what you look like swallowing cum," Lotor said lightly, "I would _much_ rather be fucking you senseless right now, and that isn't going to happen on its own."

"No," Lance said, "I guess it's not." He was disappointed, yeah, but the promise of Lotor's cock buried in his ass was more than enough salve for it. He let Lotor guide him over to the bed, and Lotor hummed briefly.

"All fours," he suggested. "I would love to see your pretty face while you're screaming my name, but this will be much more comfortable when I knot you." _Knot you._ Lotor said it so casually, but for Lance it was an electric thrill, something he'd only expected to experience voyeuristically, in some trashy werewolf bodice ripper.

"Sounds good," Lance said, and he positioned himself as asked, ass in the air. Lotor rested a hand on the base of his spine and trailed his fingers up his back as he walked past Lance and over to what Lance figured had to serve as a dresser. There were a few brief moments of rummaging, and Lance turned his head to the side to watch, and Lotor emerged with a surprisingly familiar-looking bottle. Lube was lube everywhere, he supposed.

"Some Galra don’t self-lubricator either," Lotor said, by way of explanation. "Some do, but because of how many species we've interbred with over time, our diversity is...unsurprising." He gave a brief, somehow amused shrug. "And not particularly relevant, at the moment." Lotor moved back behind Lance, and there was the ever-familiar sound of a bottle's top being popped off, and in short order Lance felt two long fingers teasing at his entrance. A tiny whimper escaped his lips, and he rolled his hips back against Lotor's hand, practically pleading for more.

"Don't tease me," he whined, and Lotor let out a breathy little laugh, slowly working a finger into him.

"Oh, I don't know," he said lightly, "teasing you sounds like it could be terribly fun." Lance groaned. "Not now, though. You've been so good, it would be terribly unfair of me to hold out on you any further."

"Yeah," Lance agreed, fucking back against Lotor's finger, "it really really would be." Lotor huffed and began to work him, bending over Lance's back to press kisses over the back of his neck and down his spine, interspersed with little bites that Lance desperately hoped would actually leave marks. He really, really wanted to be feeling this in the morning, wanted to wake up knowing with all the certainty in the world that he'd been fucked senseless by Lotor, the Emperor Pro Tem of the Galra, and more importantly to Lance personally, the man he'd been desperately trying to seduce for _months_.

"I've thought about this," Lotor murmured against his back, "about what you would look like splayed out underneath me." A second finger slid into Lance, making him moan, especially when they began to work deeper into him, stretching him wide and making him shudder. "Ever since you showed up at my door and practically threw yourself on me." Lotor's fangs sank into Lance's skin, and he let out a cry that was a mix of pleasure and pain. "I regretted sending you away, you know."

"I get why you did, though," Lance said. "and waiting for it just makes this better, right? _Fuck, Lotor!_ " The name came out as a distracted yell, because a third finger had slipped into him and Lotor found his prostate, sending a hot thrill up his spine.

"Mm, yes, waiting _has_ made having you all the sweeter." Lotor agreed, crooking his fingers inside Lance again so they hit his prostate and drawing another desperate cry from his lips. Lance felt his cock jerk with the touches, teasing at the most sensitive part of him. His eyes squeezed shut, and he let Lotor work him open, words stolen by the skilled strokes of Lotor's fingers inside him. By the time he felt them slide out, Lance was aching and desperate for more, for that cock he'd gotten a tantalizing taste of.

"Are you ready?" Lotor asked, lips directly by his ear, voice low and husky.

"Yes," Lance gasped, "yes, I'm _so_ ready, Lotor _please_." He could practically feel Lotor's self-satisfied grin. His hands gripped Lance's hips, holding him in place, and he began to slide into him slowly. Lance felt the ridges catch on his rim, and he whined, full-body shivers wracking him as Lotor very slowly worked himself in. He didn't hilt, but Lance could feel Lotor’s knot pressing against his rim, and that felt like a promise.

Lotor's thrusts were slow and measured, and they had Lance shivering with want as the ridges on his cock caught on Lance's rim on each thrust, going in and out. Moans tumbled from Lance's lips, and he found himself thrusting back in little needy movements of his hips.

"Come on, please, harder," Lance begged, and Lotor let out an amused little hum, but he did pick up his pace, using his grip on Lance's hips to drag Lance back to meet his thrusts.

"You're taking my cock so _well,_ Lance," Lotor purred, and Lance whined. The praise went straight to his cock, and he fumbled to get a hand underneath himself and begin stroking. His eyes squeezed shut, and he felt almost dragged under by pleasure, swept up in the feeling of Lotor's cock pounding in and out of him. "You're so very good for me."

"Yes," Lance moaned, pressing back against Lotor's cock, "yes, I wanna be good for you, Lotor _please,_ " he begged. It was almost maddeningly good, and when Lotor's cock found his prostate, he cried out, increasing the speed of his strokes on his own cock. He could feel Lotor's knot swelling up with each thrust, teasing at his rim, and it was like a tease, a promise of what he could have if he could just get Lotor to _give it to him._

"Please what?" Lotor teased, and Lance whined. That wasn't _fair._

"Please fuck me harder," he said, and he flushed as he said it. He tried to roll his hips back against Lotor's thrusts to emphasize his point, but Lotor's tight grip on them stopped him.

"Happily," Lotor purred, and he picked up his pace. Lance moaned, and pressed back against his thrusts.

“Please, more,” he begged, and Lotor made a little amused sound.

"Tell me, Lance, do you want my knot?" He asked, and it came out sounding almost teasing.

"Yes," Lance gasped, nodding, and he felt his cock jump at the prospect. Yes, he wanted that thing inside him, filling him up more than any human could even begin to. He hadn't realized that sort of thing got him hot, but he was learning all sorts of new things.

Lotor growled, a low, almost possessive sort of sound, and one arm came up to wrap around Lance's chest, and he casually turned them around so he was sitting on the bed with Lance's back against his chest. In this new position, all Lotor had to do was let gravity work, and Lance felt his knot slide in easily. It wasn't big enough to lock them together yet, and Lotor's hands moved back to Lance's hips, using the leverage of position and strength to bounce him up and down while Lotor trailed kisses and bites up Lance's neck. Desperate moans tumbled past Lance's lips, and every time he was lifted off Lotor's knot, he cried out. Scrambling for leverage, he reached back and twisted his fingers in Lotor's hair, head tilting back and eyes squeezing shut.

"Fuck, Lotor, yes, yes, _yes,"_ Lance gasped.

" _Lance,_ " Lotor moaned, and just hearing his name from the Prince's lips like that was a thrill. Lotor yanked him down hard, and Lance felt Lotor's knot swell to what had to be its full size, locking him in position and leaving him shuddering desperately at the little, shallow thrusts Lotor could still accomplish. There was a feeling like sparks at the base of his spine, and a tightness in his stomach.

"Lotor, Lotor I'm close, I'm gonna cum," Lance gasped, and Lotor _growled._

"Good," he said, in a voice that sounded both wrecked and darkly dangerous at the same time. He fucked up into Lance, and Lance could feel him start to come, spilling into him and filling him up. Lance untwisted a hand from Lotor's hair and reached down to bring himself off, desperate cries passing his lips. He felt Lotor's claws dig into his hips, and he was pretty sure it was hard enough to draw blood, and so were the teeth that sank into his shoulder, but he didn't _care,_ the pain just blended with pleasure, and he screamed out his own orgasm, entire body shuddering. Cum spilled over his hand and splattered on his stomach, as Lotor growled out a dark, heavy _"mine"_ against his neck.

"Yours," Lance agreed without hesitation, and he reached back to twist his fingers in Lotor's hair again and drag him in for a kiss. Even sweaty and mussed from sex, Lotor's hair still managed to feel soft and silky, and distantly Lance thought that was kind of unfair. He felt Lotor's claws retract, and glanced down, and yeah, there were ten matching pinpricks on either side of his hips, and he was sure there was a nice bite mark on his shoulder, and frankly as far as Lance was concerned that was _hot._ He leaned back against Lotor's chest and let out a little breathless laugh.

“As good as you thought it would be?” Lotor asked lightly, nuzzling against the back of Lance's neck.

"Better," Lance said, and meant it. "So, so much better."

He let Lotor pull him down onto the mattress, and snuggled back against him, eyes closing partway as he settled into the warm comfort of Lotor’s arms.

“We’ll be tied together for a while yet,” Lotor murmured. Lance nodded faintly, and he sighed. “Best to rest.”

“Sounds good,” Lance acknowledged.

If someone had told him a few months ago that he’d be falling asleep in the arms of the Galra emperor, Lance would have laughed at the idea. At the moment it happened, though, there was nowhere he would rather have been.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter feat. art by the absolutely amazing [purplerubyred](http://purplerubyred.tumblr.com/)!


	6. Chapter 6

There was nothing about this mission Keith liked.

He'd been in plenty of Galra bases, both with Voltron and with the missions he was occasionally taking with the Blade when he needed to feel like he was  _ doing something _ and not caught in a loop of recruiting allies and occasionally helping Pidge and Hunk follow up on whatever leads they had about Lance.

There weren't many. Some of the reports from the Empire said there was a human among Lotor's most trusted Generals, a sharpshooter that was garnering a reputation both among the Empire and among its foes for his accuracy and his seeming talent for never being where you thought he was, but that didn't feel so much like a  _ lead _ as it did an  _ absolutely bizarre rumor. _

Maybe there was another half-human, half-Galra out there, like Keith, and that was who Lotor had recruited. Keith and Lance might never have gotten along, and yeah, some of the shit Lance threw at him  _ stung _ , hard, but that didn't mean Keith thought he was capable of turning traitor.

But that wasn't the point—well, it sort of was. They were on this mission tracing a lead, sidelong, because there were reports of some mysterious vigilante sharpshooter showing up on Galra bases where there had been Druid activity, and "mysterious vigilante sharpshooter" sounded way more like Lance than "Imperial General," if he was on his own and away from Voltron. With Matt back on the team and his expertise in cracking Galra code made available to them, they were able to determine that this base had housed a small contingent of Druids and a whole lot of Quintessence for a pretty significant period of time.

If they were gonna find their mysterious vigilante anywhere, this seemed like a good place to start. If nothing else, there was value in investigating anything the Druids were screwing around with, because nothing they were up to was ever gonna be good.

"Something's wrong," Keith said quietly. "We should've run into sentries by now. Or...something, at least."

"Stay sharp," Shiro said. "We don't know what might be here."

Even though it had been a few months since Lance was lost and Shiro had to climb back into a Lion, Keith still wasn't used to having him back. Maybe because it still didn't quite feel like  _ Shiro _ .

Maybe because he couldn't shake the feeling that something was very gravely wrong, because the Shiro he knew never would have just...let a teammate crash, and then held them back from a rescue attempt long enough that by the time they got to the Red Lion, Lance had been spirited away by forces unknown. Nothing Shiro had done since had been quite as egregious, but keeping them doing propaganda garbage like The Voltron Show instead of being out actively looking was still not really in keeping with the person Keith knew.

"Can't we just be lucky?" Hunk asked. "Maybe they're understaffed! Ooh, maybe this place is abandoned!"

"C'mon, Hunk," Pidge said, "we both know we're not that lucky."

"Let me dream," Hunk said.

"Hey," Keith hissed, "not now. I think I hear something." He slipped forward silently, resting a palm on the panel to open the door in front of him, and it slid wide, to reveal what had to have once been a quintessence storage room.

A quintessence storage room littered with a trail of fallen sentries.

"That's not good," Hunk said. Shiro strode forward and frowned, picking up one of the sentry's arms.

"They were here recently," he said. "This is still warm."

"That's  _ really _ not good." Hunk said.

"Is it not?" Allura asked. "This might be an ally. They  _ have _ been fighting the sentries."

"That's kinda a really loose qualification for 'might be an ally,'" Hunk said. "I mean, what if it's a soldier from the base and the sentries turned on them and they're the only one left—"

"Hunk," Pidge said, "that's the plot of like four horror games, and it's probably not what happened here."

"It's definitely not what happened here." Shiro said. "And there's more than one of them. Look. Some have been shot, but some have been stabbed, and a few are just...ripped in half."

Keith's eyes drifted over the sentries laid out on the ground, and then towards the door on the other side of the room.

"Only one way to find out," he said, and he strode forward.

"Keith, wait!" Shiro shot up, and Hunk made a very distressed noise, but Keith didn't hesitate, pressing his hand to the door panel and letting it swing open at the same time he drew his luxite dagger from its sheath at his back and let it shift into its sword from. The red bayard was lost with Lance, but he still had his knife, and that would be all he needed.

On the other side of the door were four familiar figures, and Keith made a noise of surprise.

Of all the people he'd expected to see,  _ Lotor's generals _ were the bottom of the list.

" _ Vato, _ " the red one said, glancing back at the one leaning over the panel. "Narti, keep working, we'll cover you!" The one leaning over the panel made a gesture with her hand that must have been a form of acknowledgement, because the other three leapt into combat, and it was pitched. Keith caught an incoming strike from the red one's dagger with his sword, and twisted around her, growling. Allura ended up tangled up with the big one again, and Pidge and Hunk went for the last one, the woman Keith had saved in the weblum.

"Hey," the red one said, after a few traded blows, "y'know, this is really fun and all, but I'm gonna have to duck out!" She did a ridiculous, flashy flipping maneuver, and the big one tucked and slid, and suddenly Keith was facing an opponent twice his size who looked like the idea of beating him into the ground was the most fun thing she'd thought of all week.

"Oh, would you look at that," she said, a razor grin on her face, "that's a luxite blade. You've gotta be Keith, then."

"How do you know my name?" Keith asked, startled. The acknowledgement took him off guard enough that she almost managed to land a hit, but before she could Shiro was there, blocking her fist with his Galra arm.

"A little bird told me," she said, and her eyes flicked up and down Shiro. "And you've gotta be Shiro. Robot arm, reckless desire to protect Keith, and all."

"I don't know how you know what you know," Shiro growled, "but it's not gonna make a difference. We can still outfight you, as a team."

"You talk big," the big one laughed, "but I bet you can't back it up." She moved to drive a fist into Shiro's stomach, and Keith yelled and launched himself forward, slamming into her side. She grunted and stumbled, but didn't fall, and Keith kept pressing the attack.

Right up until there was a loud  _ crack _ and a spray of tile, centimeters from his feet.

The fighting stopped, all eyes on the spot on the floor.

“Sniper,” Shiro breathed. 

“Ooh, looks like he’s feeling nice,” the red one sighed. “He could’ve taken your head off, Red.” She gave Keith a wink, and Keith had absolutely no doubt that she meant exactly what she said.

“You gonna come join us down here?” The big one called over her shoulder.

There was no verbal answer, but one wasn’t necessary. A figure dropped out of the rafters, landing among the Generals in a casual crouch. They were dressed in Galra body armor, with a tinted helmet, and bore what could only be a Galra sniper rifle. As they stood up, it became obvious that they were too short to be fully Galra, closer to a human in height.

Lotor’s mysterious new sharpshooter, Keith realized with a faint ringing of dread.

They reached up to remove their helmet, and Keith wanted, for a moment, to believe that he was hallucinating, but the shocked faces of the rest of the team told him he was  _ definitely  _ seeing what he thought he was seeing.

“Hey, guys,” Lance said, “long time no see.”

“Lance?” Hunk sounded utterly gutted, and Keith wasn’t sure he felt any different. Of all the possibilities he’d considered for what exactly had happened to Lance after that crash, when they’d found Red empty, “ _ joined the Galra”  _ was not even something he’d felt was on the table. All that time, all that searching, all the horrible certainty that he’d lost  _ someone else _ and it was entirely  _ his fault _ , and Lance was….not just  _ alive _ , not just  _ okay,  _ he was a  _ traitor. _

“Well hey, you  _ do _ remember who I am!” Lance said, voice imbued with sarcasm. “With how much effort you put into searching for me, I was kinda starting to think you’d forgotten.”

“Of course we didn’t forget, Lance, but—” Allura started, looking horrified. 

“But  _ what?”  _ Lance cut her off. “‘But we had to do Voltron on Ice’? How’d you plan to explain  _ that one _ if you pulled me out of some Galra hellhole prison? ‘Sorry, Lance, coulda spent more time looking for you, but we had other shit to do.’”

“We  _ did! _ ” Keith snapped, finally. He felt sick and angry, and his fingers twitched around the handle of his bayard. “You might’ve missed it, but we’re in the middle of a  _ war!” _

“The war sure as hell stopped when  _ Shiro _ was missing,” Lance said, and he gave Keith a smile that was absolutely toxic. “And  _ speaking of,  _ Shiro, good to see you’re back in Black.” When Lance turned to him, Keith growled audibly. “At least now, when you make shit calls that put the team in danger, your ass will be in the line of fire too.”

“Lance—” Shiro started.

"Don't." Lance said flatly. "Don't do that. Don't start trying to justify yourself to me."

"I made the best call for the situation we were in." Shiro said firmly.

_ "The best call for the situation we were in," _ Lance said mockingly. "Really? That's what you're going with?" He shook his head. "Would it still have been the best call if it was  _ Keith? _ "

"Yes," Shiro said, without hesitation and with nothing but certainty. Keith felt like someone had dropped ice down the back of his shirt. He looked over at Shiro with wide, shocked eyes. Yeah, okay, he didn’t really expect Shiro to play favorites publicly, but he would have maybe expected a little bit of a  _ pause  _ before he said that he was completely okay with abandoning Keith if the situation called for it. 

Maybe he was being stupid. There were definitely situations where it would be the right call. Keith just...wasn’t used to Shiro clearly thinking of him—of  _ anyone _ —as disposable.

"Coming after you would have put the whole team in danger.” Shiro continued. “It doesn't matter who was flying, the risk wasn't worth taking." Lance let out a laugh that wasn't really particularly humorous.

"Really?" Lance said. "Wow, Shiro. That's cold. But you know what? You actually kinda did make the right call. I got really lucky, see. Instead of getting carted off by Haggar and her Druids to be their next experiment, I got picked up by these fine ladies here," He spread his arms to gesture to the Generals, "and brought to Prince Lotor." He almost sounded amused with the whole situation. "I held out for a long while, you know. I thought you were gonna come save me."

"We tried!" Hunk said, almost pleadingly. "We looked everywhere, we came here because we were looking for you!" For the first time, Lance's expression moved away from cocky, cold arrogance, and he actually looked sad.

"I wanna believe you, Hunk, buddy." He said. "I don't wanna believe that you guys just let me go. But man, it's been  _ phoebs _ ."

"We _ were _ !" Pidge snapped. "We followed every trail, turned over every rock, but I guess we were looking in the wrong place, because I didn't want to believe you could be...be one of Lotor's  _ generals _ ."

"Yeah, well. Believe it," Lance said. "Lotor offered me a spot on his team, and it was pretty obvious you guys didn't need me on yours." He glanced behind him. "Narti, you about ready?" The woman at the console made a gesture and straightened. "Good," Lance said. "So, good chat, great seeing you all again, but we've gotta get going, and you probably should too, before the base commander wakes up and we all end up under a whole army of sentries." He gave a brief nod, and the other four Generals started moving towards the other door out of the room.

"You don't have to go with them!" Hunk said, and he stepped forward, reaching for Lance.

"No, I don't," Lance said, "you're right. But that's the thing. I want to." He turned, and then paused, like it was an afterthought, and suddenly the red bayard appeared in his hand. He twirled it around his finger, casually. "Hey, Keith," he said, and he tossed it in Keith's direction, "I think this is yours. I don't need it anymore, so it only seems polite to give it back." Keith caught it, and his fingers curled around it tensely. Lance gave a brief nod, and took a moment to strap his sniper rifle into what had to be a holster on his back. "Another time, guys," he said, and he gave a cockeyed salute, and then turned to catch up with the other Generals.

Keith was too stunned to move to try and bring him back, and as far as he could tell, the others were too, and before anyone could get over their surprise enough to move, he was gone.

 

* * *

Partway through the night, after Lance's encounter with Voltron on the Druid base, Lotor woke up to find that the other side of his bed was empty. A soft exhale passed his lips, and he slid out of bed, standing up and pulling a robe on over his sleep pants. He had a guess as to where Lance might be, and it would be easy enough to confirm if he was. If not, well. Running into his old team hadn't exactly bene easy, and as much as Lotor had done his best to provide his beloved  _ alekoaci _ with comfort, there was only so much he could do. Gentle kisses and lovemaking could take Lance's mind off it for a time, but it couldn't change that he'd had to turn away from people Lotor  _ knew _ he cared about.

He had no concerns about Lance's loyalties, not anymore. He had more than proven he could be trusted. Whatever this late night wandering was about, Lotor could be certain that Lance would return to him, even if he required some time alone to process what had happened.

Before Lotor made too many assumptions, though, he chose to make his way to the records room, where the decryption key his team had stolen from the Druid's base earlier was working to crack the files they'd managed to acquire on  _ Project Kuron _ .

Whatever it was, Lotor knew it troubled Lance, and frankly, any  _ project _ of Haggar's troubled Lotor as well, never mind that it might have somehow affected the head of Voltron. They might not be on the same team p[er se, but Lotor liked to think that he and the Paladins were working towards...similar goals, if not the exact same one. Someday, he hoped, they might be allies, but that would be impossible with Haggar's influence at play.

He found Lance where he'd expected to, seated in front of the main computer, knees pulled to his chest and a blanket wrapped around him. Lotor stood behind him and slid his arms around Lance's shoulders.

"You seem troubled,  _ alekoaci, _ " he said. Lance closed his eyes and leaned back into the touch.

"I'm sure now," Lance said, voice soft, "that something's wrong with Shiro." He swallowed. "I asked him if he'd...do to Keith what he did to me. Asked if it had been Keith in Red when she crashed, would he have left him behind? And he said yes. And he sounded like he meant it."

"And the Shiro you knew, prior to his apparent recapture?" Lotor prodded. He suspected he knew what the answer to the not-quite question would be.

"Shiro...he  _ loves _ Keith, man." Lance said. "Like, Keith's way more obvious about the starry eyes and the really dramatic vows? But the Shiro I used to know would have burned the universe for Keith just as much as Keith would burn the universe for him. It's not...Shiro would never do that to him. Leave him behind like that." Lance shook his head. "Like, I'm one thing. But abandoning _ Keith? _ No way. Something's wrong."

"And, I imagine, you have your suspicions about what, exactly, that is," Lotor said, settling against Lance's back.

"A couple," Lance said. "Not sure, yet, though, and I won't be until..." he gestured at the decryption in progress and sighed. There was silence, for a moment, and then Lance turned his head to look back at Lotor. "Hey. That thing you always call me.  _ Alekoaci _ . What's it mean? I keep meaning to ask, and I never have."

" _ Far-seer, _ " Lotor translated easily. "One who is looking ahead, who sees more than want is on the surface. Perhaps not a.... _ directly _ romantic pet name, but it  _ is _ you. My bright-eyed sharpshooter." Lotor closed his eyes briefly. "And I trust you to see for me the things I cannot."

"Oh," Lance breathed, and he turned more fully to press a kiss to Lotor's lips. Lotor sighed happily into the kiss, and leaned in to deepen it; this still wasn't a  _ permanent _ distraction from Lance's concerns, but it was  _ a _ distraction, and a pleasant one for the both of them at that, and Lotor would have happily pursued more of it. He liked Lance's kisses quite a lot. Unfortunately, there was a small  _ ping _ from the computer, indicating the decryptor was finished, and Lance pulled away. Lotor huffed, briefly, but stood with Lance as he moved to the screen.

"Alright, Project Kuron," Lance said, tapping to pull up the primary files, "let's see what you've got."

After all the secrecy, all the lies, to finally know what Project Kuron really was would be a victory.

Lotor moved to read over Lance's shoulder, and after a few lines, he almost wished he hadn't. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched as horror slowly dawned on Lance's face as he, too, grapsed what was in the clinical text and diagrams before them.

"...Oh, my god." Lance whispered softly, and Lotor made a tiny noise of agreement. The horror was appropriate, because what Haggar and her druids had done was...monstrous.

A clone of the Black Paladin, created from DNA extracted from the arm he had lost in the arena, tweaked to be a living weapon on multiple levels. The documents described  _ control _ and  _ override _ protocols,  _ mission directives _ that included  _ causing division among the team _ ...Lotor felt sick just reading what Haggar intended to do. She had returned their leader to them,  _ apparently _ , but he was...a copy, created to serve Haggar's purposes and nothing more.

"You were right," Lotor said quietly. "It...wasn't Shiro. your leader would never..."

"Yeah," Lance said quietly. "Guess I was." He swallowed. "Kinda wish I wasn't—oh,  _ fuck _ ." Lance let out a tiny gasp of horror. "The rest of the team, they're stuck with this—fuck, we have to warn them somehow."

"As admirable as I find that," Lotor said, and he meant it, "do you think they would accept a warning from you? Or from  _ me _ ?"

"I..." Lance started, and then he exhaled between gritted teeth. "From me, maybe, but I don't know how..." He shook his head. "We have to do  _ something _ . What if he tries to kill them all in their sleep? What if that's her endgame?"

"If it were," Lotor pointed out, "I feel she would have done so already. It must be something more than that..." He leaned around Lance to pull up some of the other files, until he found one that had a diagram of "Shiro's" arm and sketches of each of the Lions and Voltron itself. "What's this?" He tapped a marked section on the arm, highlighted in bright yellow, and scanned over the text overlay it brought up, while Lance pulled over the main portion of the page and scanned over that.

"...Oh," he said, after a long moment. "Uh. Now I know what happened to Red."

"A quintessence disruptor," Lotor said quietly. "Capable of shutting down the power to the Lions. She must have used a ship-mounted one to take down yours, but..." He gestured to pull up the marked portion of the diagram of "Shiro's" arm. "Here, there's a much smaller one embedded within the clone's Druid arm, and it...appears that smaller does  _ not, _ in this case, mean less  _ potent. _ And it can be detonated remotely."

"Shit," Lance breathed. "Shit." He sank back into the chair in front of the screen, shaking his head. "It's so obvious, now."

"She removed you from the equation," Lotor said, "in order to free up a spot on the team, and force her pet into the Black Lion." Lance nodded, slowly.

"If Black took him back—and she  _ did _ —he must....he must not know." Lance's voice was soft, and almost sad. "He doesn't know that he's Haggar's weapon. He...he thinks he's Shiro." The way Lance said it made it sound like he found that possibility heartbreaking, and Lotor had to admit, it did sound rather tragic.

"Whether he is aware or not," Lotor said gently, "he is...a risk."

"Yeah, no kidding," Lance said, and he closed his eyes. "She could remote detonate that thing while he was in Voltron and it'd be done. No quintessence, no lions, no giant robot...they'd be sitting ducks to get picked off."

"That is likely what she intends to do," Lotor said. Lance let out a tiny growl.

"We've got to find a way to stop this," Lance said.

"I agree," Lotor said. "The universe needs Voltron; that symbol of hope  _ must _ continue to exist." He moved to gather Lance in his arms, and Lance sank against him. "We will find a way to stop her. I swear this to you."

Whatever it took. Haggar could  _ not _ be allowed this victory. Especially not when Lotor was more than certain that with Voltron out of the way,  _ he _ would be her next target.

He did not intend to lay down for her without a fight.


	7. Chapter 7

The news that Zarkon was awake and on his feet was less than pleasant; the summons to his command ship that came shortly after was an expected consequence.

It seemed prudent to bring the small quintessence disruptors he had developed from Haggar's design; they were still in the testing process, but he knew they  _ worked, _ even a moment of shorting out the witch's magic would be utterly invaluable should it come down to a confrontation. He didn't necessarily  _ expect _ it to, not when he was more than prepared to accept his dismissal from the imperial throne, but one never knew, with Zarkon. Especially a Zarkon more fully under Haggar's control.

Lance pleaded to be allowed to come, and Lotor appreciated the desire to be supportive, but bringing a former Voltron Paladin, when he knew that he was on uneven footing with the Empire as it stood, was not exactly the best idea available to him.

He wished he had, though. As much as he was putting on a facade when he pleaded with his father to allow him to retain the throne, because he neither wanted nor needed it, it felt...familiar.

Like too many times, in his younger years, when the pleading had been sincere. When he really  _ had _ been begging for a scrap of acknowledgement, the slightest  _ hint _ that he was worth something, anything at all, to the man that he had idolized as a child.

Those days were long past him, but it was still unpleasant to be reminded of them so forcibly, to be forced back into the demeaning, obsequious language he had so often used. It would have been nice, to have Lance waiting for him on the cruiser, if only so he could look for some form of comfort.

Unfortunately, it had to wait until he was back on his cruiser. Lance was there, waiting with Acxa and Ezor, when he and Narti stepped off their transport shuttle and into the observation room that overlooked the hangar where the sincline ships were being assembled.

"So, how'd it go?" Ezor asked. "Are you fired?" She even managed to affect being distressed.

"Unfortunately," Lotor said, doing his best to put on an air of uncaring, "I have indeed been relieved of my command."

"Aw, babe," Lance said, "that's just awful. Want me to kiss it better?" Acxa rolled her eyes, and Lotor let out a quiet snort of laughter.

"As welcome as that might be," Lotor said, "perhaps a bit later. For now, we move forward. Our goals have not changed. Acxa, how is production progressing?"

"The sentries are making the final touches on the second ship," Axca said, and she looked relieved to have something else to talk about. "Sixty percent of the comet's ore was used in the production of the first two ships," she continued, "and the remaining forty percent will be more than enough for the third."

"Excellent," Lotor said, and he let himself indulge in a moment of feeling deeply self-satisfied. This was no small accomplishment. He had two completed trans-reality ships and a third in production. He also no longer had the expectations of the Empire hanging over his head, because he was no longer the emperor. He had all the freedom in the universe, and  _ plenty _ to do with it. "Lance," he turned, "what are your thoughts on, perhaps, reaching out to Voltron?"

"Might be worth a shot," Lance said, almost idly. "I don't wanna say whether they'd go for an alliance—I mean, you're still the  _ prince, _ even if you're not the  _ emperor pro tem _ anymore—but we do have information they really, really need, and we might have a better time of getting it to them no—holy shit!"

The ship shook around them, and Lotor swore, reaching out to catch Lance instinctively when he flailed.

“Zethrid!” he barked into the communicator, steadying Lance back on his feet, “what was that?”

“A Galra fleet!” Zethrid replied quickly. “We’re under attack!”

“Return fire!” Lotor ordered. This was...not at all what he had anticipated. There had certainly been a  _ possibility _ that Zarkon would order him removed, but this was  _ far  _ too quick. He had barely been away for a few hours; if Zarkon was going to do aaay with him so quickly, surely he would have done it on his base. It would have been simpler and neater. Why send a fleet after him?

“There’s a second fleet!” Zethrid said. “And another—we can’t hold them all off!”

“Then evacuate,” Lotor said sharply. “Acxa, have the sincline ships prepared for flight. Load the remaining ore into mine.” 

“Yes, sir,” Acxa said. 

“What the hell is this?” Lance asked—demanded, perhaps more accurately, which was more than fair.

“My father losing his mind, I presume,” Lotor said, and the forced ice he felt infected his voice. “With the witch’s influence, no doubt.” 

“Great,” Lance said, voice full of sarcasm, “that’s just super. I’m so glad the person at the head of the most vast empire the universe has ever known is, like, a reasonable, levelheaded dude. Really. Thrilled.”

“It’s very reassuring,” Ezor agreed, equally sarcastically.

As they ran down to the hangar, Lotor had time to plan, to a degree. There was only so much planning one could do for things going wrong in such a monumental way, of course, but Lotor supposed there were a few options—the rift in the ruins of Daibazaal, perhaps, so they could gather more quintessence, or one of the many planets he knew on the Empire’s edges that were smuggler hideouts where they could, for a time, disappear. It wasn’t a brilliant plan, or even really a very  _ good  _ one, but it would have to do, he supposed.

Zethrid caught up with them at the doors to the hangar, and even though their safety was anything but guaranteed, Lotor had to admit that having his whole team at his back did wonders for his confidence. 

“Divert all power to defenses,” he ordered the sentries that met them in the hangar, “hold the attack off until we’re away, then scuttle the shi—” The hangar bay rocked, and Lotor felt a moment of panic. That sort of hit was hard enough that it  _ had  _ to be direct. 

“How did they find us?” Acxa demanded.

Lotor would have admitted that he was wondering exactly the same thing, if he’d had the time. 

It could have been a lucky guess, he supposed. There were plenty of fleetships firing on them. One of them was  _ bound  _ to make a lucky hit.

“We must have been tracked,” Zethrid said.

“Nah, no way,” Lance said, shaking his head. “I mean, how?” 

That  _ was  _ the life or death question, wasn’t it. The simplest solution was that he or Narti had been bugged when he was on his father’s ship, but he had run bug scans on both of them.

Unless, of course, it was a bug that couldn’t be tracked.

His eyes moved to Narti, and he felt something cold and hard settle in his chest, like a block of ice. It was the most obvious solution, and the worst one available. She had come with him to Zarkon’s ship. Because of her telepathic abilities, she was...perhaps more vulnerable to mind manipulation than most.

Haggar was, unquestionably, a  _ master  _ of mind manipulation.

His hand moved to his sword, automatically, a panicked reaction of defense—but as he reached for the hilt, his hand brushed the pouch where he’d stored the quintessence disruptors he’d built.

A much more elegant solution. One that wouldn’t require the death of an innocent victim. An innocent victim who happend to be one of perhaps five people Lotor had ever trusted, in his ten thousand years of life.

He pulled out one of the disruptors and flung it at Narti’s feet. In a burst of white light, it exploded, and both she and Kova collapsed, unconscious. Zethrid rushed over to catch her, and Lotor felt four pairs of questioning eyes on him.

“Carry her with us. We need to  _ move,”  _ he said, sharper than he might otherwise have been. There would be time for explanations  _ later,  _ when their lives weren’t all at risk. 

At least his team was made of professionals. They snapped to quickly, moving into position in the ships, and the two sincline fighters were out of the belly of his cruiser in barely a few doboshes and past the line of fleets in only a few ticks more.

The universe handed them one other gift; or, at least, that was how Lotor chose to see it. He only caught a glimpse as they flew past, but he swore he spotted the shape of  _ Voltron;  _ if anything would provide effective cover for their escape, voltron’s likely-unintentional intervention would.

The flight was, at first, in silence, but not for long.

“Sir,” Acxa said, voice soft, “we’re picking up a transmission.”

Lotor didn’t bother ordering her to play it. He had a feeling he knew what it would be, and they would all hear it anyway.

_ “Attention, citizens of the Galra Empire.”  _ Zarkon’s voice poured through the comms. _ “From this day forward, my son Lotor is to be regarded as a fugitive criminal of the Empire. All citizens are authorized to use deadly force to stop him, or any of his soldiers. I repeat: Prince Lotor is an enemy of the state. Engage with extreme prejudice. Kill on sight.” _

 

* * *

 

"Okay," Lance said, when they'd floated a fairly safe distance from the Galra fleets, "what the  _ hell _ was that, with Narti?"

Lotor closed his eyes, briefly. He probably should have expected that, and if he were being honest, he was glad that  _ someone  _ had asked.

"I believe Haggar was using her to track us," Lotor said. "I don't know the full extend of the witch's powers, but I know she is intensely skilled in magic revolving around mind manipulation. Narti was with me when I went to my father's base, and  _ something  _ was tracking us through the cruiser."

"And you didn't say anything because...?" Lance prompted.

"Because there was  _ no time, _ " Lotor said, voice sharp. He felt guilty, briefly, but not enough to keep him from pressing on. "Had we stood around debating, we likely all would have died."

"What was that thing you used on her?" Ezor asked. "I've never seen it before."

"A quintessence disruptor, a prototype developed from the blueprints Lance and I found in Haggar's files on Project Kuron." He reached into the pouch at his side and ran a thumb over one of the remaining ones. "It...seemed a better option than just killing her outright. And those were the only options we  _ had. _ "

"If she was being controlled by Haggar," Axca said.

"She was," Lotor said firmly. "I took the only course of action available to me. She'll be unconscious for a time, but she'll wake, and then we'll have our answers."

"And once she does?" Acxa asked. "I don't want to question your plans, sir, but—"

"But do you even have one?" Lance asked. Lotor winced.

"Not...as such," he admitted. "I have a few potential options, but none of them are entirely...ideal."

"What about Voltron?" Zethrid suggested. "I mean, we're fugitives from the empire now. Enemy of my enemy?"

"That's not an  _ awful _ idea," Lance said, and Lotor didn't have to see him to know he was doing the little nod he did when something struck him as particularly clever. "It'd get us  _ somewhere _ , at least, that's not, you know, in Imperial space."

"And Voltron would  _ have _ to help us," Ezor said, and she actually sounded enthusiastic about the idea. "They're the good guys, right?"

"In theory," Lance said, butt here was a hint of a joke in his tone.

"We have to find them, first," Lotor pointed out.

"So we find somewhere to lay low for a little while and listen in," Ezor said, like it was simple. "I mean, let's be honest, if Haggar's making moves on us? She's gonna make a big one on Voltron pretty quickly, I bet."

"Especially with...Project Kuron." Lance sounded more troubled than he'd been when he mentioned the name. Lotor wasn't exactly surprised. It had to be distressing, not knowing what the specific endgame was.

"Sir?" Acxa asked, and Lotor realized he had lapsed into silence while considering the options laid before them. There wasn't exactly a  _ good _ one, in practical terms; there were simply ones more or less likely to result in either dying or being turned over to the Empire.

Voltron, he supposed, was the one least likely to result in either.

"I think," Lotor said, "I know an excellent place for us to wait this out."

 

* * *

Lotor had never seen the ruins of Daibazaal before, but he knew where they were. Every Galra did; the destruction of their home planet was a scar on the hearts of everyone in the Empire, every child born on a ship who wouldn't walk on land except for land they were in the process of conquering.

"Where are we?" Lance asked, as they brought the ships down on a large piece of debris.

"Daibazaal," Lotor said, voice soft. "The Galra homeworld. Or, what's left of it."

"...Coran told us about that," Lance said, voice equally quiet. "About what happened. How Alfor had to destroy it to close the rift."

"The rift isn't closed," Lotor said, as he stepped out of his ship. "It's a secret my father kept, even after the fall of the planet. Whatever else happened, nothing could undo the work my mother Honerva had done. The rift remains, at the core of these ruins."

"Your...mother?" Lance asked, and Lotor glanced over to see him move in close to Lotor's side. "I didn't realize..."

"My father has always been more...immediately relevant," Lotor admitted. "But yes. My mother was his wife, the Altean alchemist Honerva." Lotor closed his eyes briefly. “Sometimes, I wish—” he stopped, and shook his head. There was rarely a time to be lost in fantasy, and this  _ certainly _ wasn’t it. “Never mind. Zethrid, how is Narti?”

“I think she’s starting to come to,” Zethrid said, “and Kova’s already awake.” Indeed, the cat was settled on Zethrid’s shoulder, and Lotor could see Narti beginning to stir in her arms. She didn’t have eyes to blink, but she could sit up partway.

“What…happened?” She signed, hands a little sluggish. “Remember attack on cruiser, then white flash and nothing.” She reached up and pressed a palm to her forehead. “Head hurts,” she signed, “feel fuzzy. Memories fuzzy.”

“Haggar was using you to spy on us,” Lotor said quietly.

“Stopped her?” Narti signed rapidly, sitting up straighter in Zethrid’s hold. “Must have stopped her.”

“Yes.” Lotor replied. “The white flash you saw was a quintessence disruptor. It broke your link to her. And is...also likely the cause of your headache, and any other aches you might feel.” He paused, for a moment. “I am sorry,” he said. “For not taking the time to explain.”

“Wasn’t time,” Narti signed. “Witch would have known, could have done something. Hurt me. Better the way you did it.” She looked up at Zethrid. “Put me down. I have legs.” 

“As you wish,” Zethrid said, with an edge of drama to her voice. She set Narti on her feet, and Kova quickly leapt from Zethrid’s shoulder to his preferred mistress. 

“So…what now?” Ezor asked. “We’re all here, we’re all alive, we’re about as safe as we’re gonna get.”

“Now,” Lotor said, “we wait for news of Voltron.”

 

* * *

The waiting was easier demanded than done. At first Lotor paced anxiously, listening unhappily to radio transmissions detailing the hunt for him, but eventually Lance all but physically forced him to sit down, and then curled up against his side, a silent but reassuring weight of constant companionship. Lotor half-thoughtlessly slid an arm around his waist, holding him close, and leaned to rest his cheek against the top of Lance’s head. 

It was strange, how easy and automatic physical affection had become for him. It had been a strange and rare thing before Lance, but his lover was so unquestioningly physical that it was impossible for Lotor to be anything  _ but  _ in response. He hadn’t realized how much he had missed even the simplest of gentle touches until Lance was casually cuddling with him. Even something as small as a hand on his shoulder had been rare, and the contact was especially calming when he was doing his best not to panic over the looming knowledge that he was a fugitive,  _ again,  _ but this time Zarkon and the witch clearly intended to hunt him down with prejudice.

The last time he was exiled, they hadn’t gone nearly that far. He’d been unceremoniously thrown out, and technically declared a fugitive, but there was no  _ empire-wide announcement  _ of his new “enemy of the state” status.

This time, at least, Lotor could say he had friends. The last time he had been exiled, it was before he found his generals; he'd been cast out alone and scared and with so, so very little hope.

This time, there was somewhere to go, and people to lean on until he could go there.

_ "Fighter squadron Zal-15, report in." _

_ "Zal-15 here. Moving to Zone Rebulon 55." _

_ "Negative, Zal-15. That zone is restricted. I repeat, zones Rebulon 4 through 65 are off-limits. We have been ordered to stay out by the High Priestess." _

Lotor's head shot up, and he stared at the radio.

"You don't think..." Ezor said, voice quiet and eyes wide.

"Voltron," Lance said. "It's gotta be." He looked up at Lotor with wide eyes. "It's gotta be, right? What else could Haggar be doing?"

"That does seem the most likely explanation," Lotor agreed. He stood, and pulled Lance to his feet with him. "And even if it isn't, it  _ is _ worth investigating."

"As you say, sir," Acxa said, and she and the others stood as well. Lotor grit his teeth. If this wasn't Voltron,t hey could be flying into a trap. Even if it was...with Project Kuron on the horizon, they could be anyway.

All that was left was to hope.

 

* * *

The entire flight to the sector indicated in the radio transmission, Lance was tense. There was nothing like knowing his friends were in danger to put him on edge.

And he still considered them his friends, whatever else had happened. With everything he knew about Project Kuron, it was obvious that even if they'd  _ wanted _ to go after him—and he believed Hunk, they  _ had _ wanted to go after him—they'd had Haggar's puppet blocking them every step of the way.

"Lance," Lotor said, and he blinked, surprised. The flight had been silent; there was so much quiet stretched between them all, and Lance hated it. "Are you alright?" He paused, briefly. "This line is private."

That was...reassuring. At least it would only be Lotor that heard him. It wasn't that he didn't trust the girls; he did, they were his friends, as much as his old team; just...Lotor was different. Lotor was his lover.

"I'm great," Lance said, and he knew it came out sounding tense. "My first time seeing to my team in phoebs, except, you know, for the one time I was posturing like a dick because I needed them to think that I was with the Empire, and it's gonna be when they're probably already in the middle of a tense as hell situation, because what do you know, our fearless leader got  _ replaced by an evil clone. _ " He groaned, softly. "I'm just. Super."

"It's not ideal," Lotor said.

"Yeah," Lance laughed bitterly, "no shit." He exhaled. "I mean, on the upside, I can think of  _ worse _ ways to introduce my new boyfriend to my best friend," he said, and Lotor actually laughed, briefly.

"Hunk, yes? The Yellow Paladin?" He asked, though ti wasn't really a question. Lance had more than talked all of his friends up, because he had wanted Lotor to understand who they were, and why he still cared about them in spite of everything. Why he hoped they would take him back.

"Yeah," Lance said. He closed his eyes. "We're gonna be okay. We're gonna find Voltron, and hey, if Haggar activates Project Kuron? Then that means the first thing they see is us saving them. That'll _ have  _ to count for something!"

"I very sincerely hope it does," Lotor said, and then Lance heard a  _ click _ to indicate he was switching frequencies to the full-team one. "Approaching Zebulon 55. Any further radio traffic, Acxa?"

"Yes," Acxa replied. "All further communications indicate whatever Haggar is doing, it's centered on planet Naxzela."

"Naxzela," Lotor said, voice quiet. "Alright. Set course there."

Lance took a breath, and started praying they would get there in time.

 

* * *

 

As far as Keith was concerned, this was the worst possible outcome.

This was supposed to be Voltron's big triumph. Their big chance to stand against the Empire and take a huge chunk of it. They and the rebels were supposed to be able to carve out a massive swath of Galra territory. And it had all been going so well. Pidge and Hunk successfully shit down the relay base. The Blade and the rebels took the two massive ion cannons. Voltron laid into Naxzela and decimated its ground forces, capturing the planet for the coalition.

And then they'd tried to  _ leave _ , and that was when everything started going wrong.

Keith remembered incoming reports of a Galra fleet approaching.

He remembered a scream.  _ Shiro's _ scream. A sound that tore his heart into pieces.

He remembered a bright white flash.

The next thing he knew, he was falling, crashing out of the sky just like Lance had before he was captured, and Voltron was in five pieces.

"Shiro!" He shouted, panic tinging his voice. "Shiro, can you hear me?"

No response.

"Shiro!" He tried one more time, and only got silence in return.

"Oh god oh god, I don't wanna die," Hunk's voice crackled across the helmet comms.

"We aren't going to die!" Allura said, the picture of determination.

"Brace for impact!" Pidge shouted.

Keith swallowed and braced, and prayed that when they hit, he'd be able to get to the Black Lion, get to Shiro. He prayed that when he did, Shiro would still be alive. He prayed, desperately, that this wasn't the end.

The impact was hard, but Red absorbed most of it, and he was able to watch as the other four Lions hit the ground. He scrambled out of Red as quickly as he could, heart pounding as he raced or Black. all he could think of was the  _ last _ time Shiro had gone silent after Voltron fell apart. How they'd gotten Black back to the castle and found it empty. How he couldn't handle that happening all over again.

If he lost Shiro a third time, he was pretty sure it might kill him.

They'd already lost so much. More than was fair. Lance had gone to the Galra, and God only knew what had happened to him since Lotor was a fugitive now. Sam Holt was still missing. They'd all given up their families, their lives on Earth, for Voltron.

Even before he got to space, Keith hadn't had much. His mother left when he was barely old enough to remember her. His father died. He had Shiro, and not much else, and...

And he couldn't do it. He couldn't lose Shiro all over again.

"Shiro!" He shouted desperately, running for the Black Lion. He barely noticed the other Paladins, crawling out of their own Lions. He barely heard the conversation happening behind him, Pidge demanding to know what was happening and Allura saying she wasn't sure, her Lion just shut down, and she couldn't hear Blue anymore. Dimly, he registered that he couldn't hear Red, either, and that was weird. He was used to her presence in his head again, used to her being a warm, angry, protective thing, settled comfortably in the back of his head.

All he cared about was that Shiro was stepping out of Black, head bowed, organic hand clutched around the elbow of his Galra arm.

"Shiro," Keith said, and he knew his relief had to show in his voice. "I'm so glad you're alright—"

Shiro's head came up, and Keith realized that his assessment was horribly, terribly wrong. Shiro was  _ not _ alright.

His eyes were bright, quintessence yellow, edge to edge, like a Galra's, and he was wearing the most terrifying, monstrous grin Keith had ever seen in his life.

"Shiro?" He asked, a little fearfully. He took half a step back, and called his bayard to his hand, but he couldn't quite make himself bring it up. This had to be some kind of terrible nightmare. Whatever had knocked out his Lion had clearly knocked him out, too, and he was trapped in a nightmare mindscape, like during the Trials of Marmora. That was the only explanation for...for what he was seeing, for the existence of some kind of monster wearing Shiro's face.

"Keith!" A familiar voice shouted, and that just made him more sure it was some kind of dream, because it sounded like  _ Lance _ , but Lance was off in the deep reaches of space with Prince Lotor, and—

A body slammed into his at the same time not-Shiro leapt forward, Galra arm activated, and someone else interposed between him and Shiro, sword up, and the battle was joined.

 

* * *

Lance's heart was pounding a mile a minute. This was it,t he worst-case scenario he'd been most concerned about. He, Lotor, and Narti had landed on the planet when they realized Voltron had crashed, and not a second too soon, because clearly whatever Haggar's endgame was with Project Kuron, it was active  _ now _ . Acxa, Zethrid, and Ezor were in the other sincline ship, covering them from the air, and Lance could only pray that their backup was enough.

"Lance?" Hunk sounded startled, and he looked up. "Lance, is that really you?"

"Yeah," he said, pushing himself up and hauling Keith with him, "it's me, and I brought friends." He pointed behind him, to Lotor, engaged with clone-Shiro in a sword-to-cool-robot-arm duel, and Narti, who had plunged eagerly into the oncoming wave of sentries pouring out of Naxzela's extensive underground.

"What is going on here?" Allura demanded. "Why is Shiro...?" She sounded heartbroken, and Lance couldn't exactly blame her. He  _ knew  _ what was going on, and the sight of Shiro gone evil was still giving him emotional hell. 

"It's kind of a long story," he said, like that even came close to explaining it. "The short version? That's not Shiro."

"What do you mean, it's not Shiro?" Keith asked, and Lance let out a breath of relief. At least he wasn't totally catatonic. He'd even brought up his bayard, to engage the sentries closing on them. Lance glanced around, briefly; no good sniper perches. Sword it would have to be. He drew his Galra blade, spinning it briefly as he moved to engage a sentry.

"I mean what I said," he said. "Lotor and I dug up the records with the decryption key we stole off that base, last time we ran into you." He drove an elbow into a sentry coming up behind him, and spun to slice another one in half, then tucked and rolled to get into a better position to engage the next one. " _ That _ is Project Kuron, a clone made by Haggar herself, and there's a quintessence disruptor in his arm. Which is how he took down Voltron."

"So...that's Shiro's evil clone," Hunk said, as he brought up his bayard.

"Yep," Lance said.

"...Then where's Shiro?" Keith asked. Lance glanced over at him, and was glad to see that he was still fighting, engaged with a small group of sentries that he was doing a good job cutting through.

"I dunno, man," Lance admitted. "I wish I could tell you. But Haggar didn't know that."

Keith looked utterly devastated. Lance supposed he couldn't exactly blame him; if he'd found out that Lotor had been replaced by some kind of homicidal clone...

He'd probably look that way, too.

"So, what?" Pidge demanded, as she hacked her way through sentries, "we're just supposed to take you back?"

"We can talk about that when we're no longer in imminent danger of dying," Lance said, and frankly he figured that was a pretty fair request.

"Lance!" Lotor called his name, and he whirled, just in time to see Shiro knock Lotor's sword out of his hand. Automatically, he started running towards Lotor's tossed-aside blade, and he spun his own, and flung it to the Prince right as he baseball slid over to Lotor's sword, scooping it off the ground. Lotor twisted away from an attack by the clone, caught Lance's sword out of the air, and brought it around to defend himself, and had it been a less serious circumstance, Lance probably would have cheered. They'd performed similar maneuvers in training, a few times, but they'd never executed it half so flawlessly in the field. As it was, though, he just stood up and did a quick spin, hacking three sentries in half and letting them fall to pieces.

"How the hell did you learn to fight like that?" Keith demanded.

"I was really,  _ really  _ motivated," Lance replied, and he couldn't help but grin. That was...definitely true. A lot of his advancement could be credited to his desire to win a  _ vat pohlavie _ spar. "Keith, behind!" He called, and Keith spun to slice up the sentry that had snuck up on him.

Lance's eyes kept moving to Lotor and Shiro, as much as he could with his own enemies pressing in. It was a pitched fight, and the two of them seemed pretty evenly matched.

Lotor, though, had far more experience being a devious bastard. It was one of the things Lance found he enjoyed about Lotor far more than he'd expected to.

Lotor feinted with his sword, caught the clone's Galra arm in a swing, and then pulled one of the quintessence disruptors out of his pouch and smacked it against the clone's chest.

It exploded in a burst of white light, and the clone yelled, and Lotor’s blade slipped under his arm and directly through the clone’s chest. Lotor spun to face the Paladins, as if daring them to challenge him in that moment. Keith stared at him for a long time, and then at the body of the clone lying on the ground at his feet, and he grit his teeth.

"You're welcome," Lotor said, voice like ice. Lance felt a chill crawl up  _ his _ back, briefly, just from the way Lotor said it, even though it wasn’t directed at him. 

"The fleet's pulling back," Zethrid reported.

"As I suspected," Lotor said. "Haggar likely experienced backlash from the quintessence disruptor, especially when she was in such close entanglement with...the clone, when it was used."

"So, now what?" Hunk asked, eyes flicking from Lotor to Keith to Lance to the corpse on the ground. Lance moved to stand next to Lotor, and he didn't have to look to know Narti had moved to support them as well.

"Now," Lotor said, "we discuss the terms of an alliance."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, that's all of it! I have a few ideas floating for a sequel, but for now we can leave this here~ I hope you all enjoyed reading, because I certainly had a great time writing~

**Author's Note:**

> Come talk to me on tumblr at [noirsongbird!](http://noirsongbird.tumblr.com)


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